Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
by scully8746
Summary: My anticipation of Book 5 (unfortunately begun a week before a date was released). Harry and Co. return to Hogwarts for their fifth year (and then there's Ginny, back for her fourth). Unfortunately, Voldemort is on the rise, and then there's always the
1. Chapter One: Another Birthday

**Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**

_Created by J.K. Rowling  
Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy _

_Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended._

_A/N: Thanks to my **wonderful** beta-reader, Becky! I would be in a real mess without her help!_

Chapter One: Another Birthday

In all of his years as a wizard, Harry couldn't remember ever being quite this anxious for the school term to begin.

It had been a very long summer at Number Four, Privet Drive. More than once, Harry had been extremely tempted to just leave the house in the dead of night and take the Knight Bus into London, or to the Burrow. He would have done anything to get away from the Dursleys for the remainder of the summer, for they had never seemed quite this wretched before. He fought down his urges to run away, though. With Lord Voldemort's return, Harry knew that it had never been more imperative that he remain with his blood relations than it was this summer. 

Harry sat on the bed in the tiny guest room on the second floor. His birthday cards were arranged in a semi-circle in front of him, delivered into his lap that day by birds from around the country. On the far right was a card from Sirius, his godfather, who until two years before had been imprisoned in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard prison. 

Harry didn't know where Sirius had gone to, but the huge tropical birds that had delivered his card the year before had been replaced by a bright white owl. It was even larger and lighter in color than Hedwig, Harry's owl. Harry suspected that Sirius was somewhere up north, but he didn't know where.

__

Dear Harry,

Sorry I can't be there. I can't tell you where I am, but I'm safe right now. Dumbledore's entrusted me with something very important, but my first priority has to be watching out for you. So once again: stay out of trouble! You'll be safe at the Dursleys. Stay there until we tell you otherwise. Keep your head down. I'll try to get in to see you after fall term starts.

I've enclosed a gift that I think you may find useful this year. Try not to get into trouble; only use it in case of emergency.

Happy Birthday, Harry. Your parents would be very proud of you.

-Sirius

Harry eagerly unrolled the scroll of parchment that was attached to his card. If he knew Sirius, his gift would be useful… and if Sirius had warned him not to get into trouble, then it had to be something good!

At first, Harry didn't know what to make of the parchment: it was completely blank. Then he remembered the Marauder's Map he'd been entrusted with two years before. Smiling, he reached under his bed and pulled out his wand… and then hesitated. Would activating a map count as magic? Well, he wasn't really making anything happen… and the Dursleys wouldn't see it - no Muggles would - so maybe just this once… "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he tried first, tapping his wand to the parchment.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned. From the note that Sirius had sent, he probably should have guessed that any affirmation of mischief wouldn't get him very far, but he couldn't think of anything else. He didn't even know what the parchment was. Maybe it wasn't a map.

He scanned the note again. Try not to get into trouble; only use it in case of emergency. He sighed and tried again. "I solemnly swear that I'm not up to no good," he attempted. Then, "This is an emergency," and finally, frustrated, "Come on, Sirius, what's the password?!" (He hadn't really expected that one to work.)

Staring, frustrated, at the bit of parchment, Harry finally set it aside to look at his other cards.

Next to Sirius's card sat the note from Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend.

__

Harry -

Happy Birthday! I wish you could come spend it here at the Burrow with us, but Mum says Dumbledore won't allow it. The summer will be really slow without you - and Hermione's busy with Krum in Bulgaria, so she won't be coming, either. I don't understand her at all. He comes from Durmstrang! Now more than ever, you'd think she'd have the sense not to be running off with foreign wizards.

Since you couldn't come with me, I sent the game to you. The Cannons were amazing! Beat Puddlemere 170 - 110! Brilliant! I won't say anymore until you've seen the game, but watch it soon, and owl me when you do! Incredible!

-Ron

Ron had sent Harry his Omnioculars, with the Chudley Cannons' latest game recorded on them. The Chudley Cannons were Ron Weasley's favorite Quidditch team, and because Harry had no access to wizarding news, and no opportunity to go see professional Quidditch teams play, they had become Harry's favorite team by default.

Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger, had also sent a book, _Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian. She had also sent a note.

__

Dear Harry,

How are you? Has your scar been bothering you at all? If it does, you know you should write to Sirius immediately. I wish I could see you and make sure you're all right, but I suppose Dumbledore wants you to stay with your aunt and uncle. Still, it won't be the same at Ron's this summer, will it?

Bulgaria was all right. Viktor sends his greetings. I'm back in England now, but Mum and Dad and I will be off to visit my grandparents soon. Hopefully I'll see you and Ron before we get back to Hogwarts. I can't wait for school to start, can you?

I hope you enjoy the book I've sent. You should probably start studying it; you never know when you'll need a counter-curse, Harry, especially now that You-Know-Who is back.

Well, Happy Birthday!

Love from, Hermione

The last package sat unopened near Harry's pillow. The lumpy brown paper, crumpled note, and unsteady handwriting left no doubt: it was from Hagrid.

__

Harry,

Happy Birthday! Hope you're alright. I'm having fun here, but I can't tell you where I am in case this letter falls into the wrong hands.

Hope you enjoy your present. They taste the same, I promise!

Hagrid

Harry unwrapped the package slowly, wary of something with teeth. When Hagrid sent a package, caution was always worthwhile. Hagrid was a genuinely caring person, but he had a fondness for dangerous things - especially dangerous pets, like Norbert, the illegal dragon he'd adopted when Harry was in his first year, or the Blast-Ended Skrewts that he'd had his Care of Magical Creatures classes raise the year before. Hagrid just didn't see the dangerous side to things. 

The brown paper tore easily, and the contents of the bundle spilled into Harry's lap. There were several small, colorful packages; they looked like Harry's favorite wizard candies, but somehow different. He picked up a sack of what looked like _Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans_, but the printing on the package wasn't in English. A witch blinked serenely on the cover (Bertie Bott, Harry assumed) and winked occasionally. _Bertie Botts Bohnen aller Geschmacksrichtungen!_ the package read.

"Then Hagrid must be on the Continent!" Harry realized. "Either Germany… or Austria, maybe…" It was a clever way to send his location, and Harry felt much better knowing that Hagrid was safe, and still in touch with wizarding civilization. After Voldemort's return the year before, Dumbledore had entrusted Hagrid and Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons headmistress, with some sort of mission. Since both were half-giants themselves, Harry suspected that mission was to talk to the giants of Europe, creatures that were thought to be violent in the wizarding world. Most wizards thought that they had allied themselves with Lord Voldemort when he was last in power. Harry suspected that all giants weren't evil, though. After all, Hagrid was a half-giant himself, and he was the furthest thing from evil it was possible to be.

With a sigh, Harry climbed off the bed and got down on the floor. Carefully, he pried the loose floorboard up, and deposited his gifts into his hiding place. Then he raised himself up and crossed the small room to the calendar that was hanging on the wall. He marked a large "X" over his birthday, removed his glasses, and climbed into bed. One more day with the Dursleys was over.


	2. Chapter Two: Old Magic and Family Love

**Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**

_Created by J.K. Rowling  
Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy_

_Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended._

_A/N: Thanks again to Becky!_

**Chapter Two: Old Magic and Family Love**

"Are you up yet?" Aunt Petunia screeched, her voice only faintly muffled by the layer of wood blocking her from Harry's view. He could hear her knuckles rapping sharply against the door. 

"Yeah," Harry muttered, sitting up and reaching automatically for his thick black glasses. They were taped together in several places until he could return to Hogwarts and repair them magically. Underage wizards were forbidden to use magic during the summer, especially around Muggles. Considering that the penalty for misuse of magic was expulsion from Hogwarts, or even imprisonment in Azkaban, Harry didn't feel particularly inclined to break the rules. 

As he pushed his glasses up on his nose, Harry's fingers automatically moved past his eyes and onto the scar on his forehead, a souvenir of the curse that Voldemort had used to kill his parents. He half expected to feel a twinge of pain run through his head at the touch, but nothing happened. Harry would have been worried if his scar had caused him pain, but as events stood, he was almost more worried that it didn't. Things had been strangely quiet all summer, and Harry didn't dare to guess why. 

At the end of the last year, Voldemort had formed a human body for himself, and called his old army of Death Eaters back to his side. Harry knew that Voldemort still wanted him dead, and wouldn't rest until he was. And yet, he hadn't been bothered once all summer. No nightmares, no headaches, and no sign of danger. It only made him worry all the more. 

He climbed out of bed slowly, depression weighing him down. It had been nearly two months since he'd come to stay with the Dursleys - seven weeks of unbearable cruelty and boredom that had brought Harry near to screaming. The tedium that surrounded life at Number Four, Privet Drive, was stifling. Harry couldn't wait to escape to Hogwarts on the first of September. He hoped Dumbledore would allow him to visit the Weasleys sooner than that, but wasn't sure what to expect, especially where Dumbledore was concerned. 

"Up! Up!" Aunt Petunia's voice broke Harry out of his reverie. "We don't feed you and clothe you so you can have a lie-in every morning! Get up, you ungrateful wretch!" 

"I'm up!" Harry yelled back angrily, yanking open the door. 

Petunia seemed almost frightened at his sudden appearance. "Well, then." She cleared her throat. "Go downstairs and help your uncle clear out the garage." 

All summer, the Dursleys had seemed more frightened of Harry than usual. They'd compensated for this by being just as cruel as was humanly possible. Harry supposed it had something to do with the letter they'd received from Professor Dumbledore one week into the summer, detailing the danger that Harry faced in Voldemort, and the old magic that protected him while he was in their house. If Harry knew the Dursleys - and after living with them for fourteen years, he had reason to believe that he did - they were less upset over the prospect of Harry being murdered than they were that magic had been cast on their home. And of course, the magic was all Harry's fault. 

After showering and dressing himself in Muggle clothes, Harry wandered down to the kitchen to try to find some breakfast. As usual, Aunt Petunia had neglected to leave anything out for him, so he fixed himself some toast and jam, and went out to the garage to find Uncle Vernon, who was home from work due to an untimely Bank holiday. 

"What kept you, boy?" Uncle Vernon questioned as soon as Harry stepped into sight. "Lazy, good-for-nothing…" 

Harry glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, he began to shift the contents of the garage around, moving the first box out into the drive. He returned and moved to pick up the second one. Then he carried the next box out, watching angrily as Vernon ceased to work, choosing instead to pause and watch Harry labor with the heavy brown boxes of discarded junk. 

Dudley wandered out from the kitchen door, gnawing discontentedly on a carrot. Now that he was back to the size of a gorilla, Petunia had eased up on the rest of the family's diet, but she still refused to stock the cupboards with Dudley's favorite sugary snacks. 

"That's right, Harry," Dudley said quietly, his eyes flashing with malice. "It's about time you pulled your weight around here." 

Harry was sorely tempted to make a reply about who pulled whose significant weight around the house, but held his tongue. He knew Vernon was just waiting for a chance to pounce, and nothing would make Dudley happier. 

Suddenly, an owl swooped out of the trees and began to circle Harry's head, cooing and clucking. Vernon jumped to his feet immediately and began to bluster. 

"Get that thing out of here!" he hissed, glancing around nervously to make sure the neighbors were all out of sight. 

Dudley just whimpered fearfully, backing toward the kitchen. 

Harry set his current box down and reached up to remove the letter tied to the owl's leg. "It's from Hogwarts," he announced, scanning the envelope as the owl continued to circle his head. 

Vernon looked ready to explode. "How many times do we have to tell you not to mention that _place_ in this house?!" 

"We're not in the house, are we?" Harry chuckled under his breath, sure that Uncle Vernon couldn't possibly look more outraged than he already did. He opened the letter eagerly, hoping for news of Hagrid and Dumbledore. 

There were three sheets inside of the envelope, the first printed on school stationary. 

Dear Mr. Potter, 

You will find enclosed a list of additional materials required for fifth years. 

As usual, the Hogwarts Express will depart at eleven o'clock on the first of September from Platform Nine and Three Quarters, London Kings Cross. Your ticket is enclosed. 

Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress 

Below the letter was a list of books. 

The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord, _by Hinkypunk Gristle_  
Dark Magic in Our Times, _by Hederich Dinkelsbule_  
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five, _by Miranda Goshawk_  
Advanced Transfiguration, _by Emeric Switch_

Harry set aside the letter and his ticket, ignoring Uncle Vernon and Dudley. He drew the third sheet from the envelope and unfolded it quickly. He recognized Professor Dumbledore's handwriting. 

Dear Harry, 

Certain events have come to my attention recently which may require a change in plans. When you get his letter, there should be only two weeks left before term begins. If you would still like to go stay with the Weasleys, please let me know by return owl so that I can arrange to have someone watch over you. 

Yours sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore

Harry grinned. _Would_ he like to stay with the Weasleys! He looked over to Uncle Vernon. "Can I go stay with my friends for the rest of the summer?" Vernon looked surprised, and seemed to be doing some quick calculations in his head. On the one hand, if Harry left, he would be out of the way; on the other hand, he would be happy. 

It didn't take Uncle Vernon long to realize that he'd much rather get rid of the boy. "Fine," he said gruffly, "but I don't want them showing up in my chimney like last year. If you want to visit them, you can take a cab or something." 

Harry didn't bother answering. He ran straight up to his room to compose a reply. 

At the top of the stairs he ran into Petunia. "Mercy!" she shrieked, dropping the basket of laundry she'd been carrying and clutching at her heart. "What's wrong with you?! Can't you walk like a normal person?" 

"Sorry," Harry replied, barely managing to keep a straight face. He hastily threw Uncle Vernon's knobby old socks and underwear back into the basket, shoved it at Petunia, and ran down the hall to his room. He could hear Aunt Petunia muttering rude things after him. 

All in one motion, Harry tapped on Hedwig's cage to wake her up, grabbed a quill and parchment from his trunk, flopped across his bed, and scribbled quickly on the back of Dumbledore's letter. 

Dear Professor Dumbledore, 

I definitely want to stay with the Weasleys. The Dursleys have their chimney blocked up and don't want the Weasleys turning up again, so I'll take the Knight Bus to Ottery St. Catchpole tonight. 

Harry Potter.

He got up off the bed and jumped to the window, where Hedwig was waiting impatiently. "Not this time, Hedwig," he told her, "I'll have one for you in a minute," he added hastily before she could turn her back. Harry stuck his head out of the window, and looked around. "Oi!" he shouted. The Hogwarts owl immediately flew up to the window. "Take this back to Dumbledore, would you?" he said, tying his reply to the owl's leg. The owl took off, and Harry grabbed another bit of parchment from his trunk. 

Dear Ron, 

I can come! Dumbledore said I can come! If it's okay with your parents, I'll take the Knight Bus to your house tonight. Maybe we can even meet up with Hermione and all go to Diagon Alley together next week! 

Harry.

Harry glanced over at Hedwig, who was watching him from the window, waiting to be given the letter. He rolled the paper up, got up off the bed, and tied it to Hedwig's leg. "Take this to Ron's, all right? And just stay there. I'll be at the Burrow later tonight." Hedwig nipped his fingers affectionately, and took off out the window. 

Harry watched her fly for a moment, then shut the window and looked around his room. He reached for his calendar and removed it from the wall. "Guess I won't be needing this anymore." He had only two weeks left, anyway. He packed it into the bottom of his trunk, then added his books, his cards, his parchment and quills, and then folded his robes and clothing on top of them. Hagrid's candy and Hedwig's food went into his cauldron, and then he waited for something else to come to him. It was only noon, and he had the rest of the day to wait before he could leave. 


	3. Chapter Three: The Knight Bus Returns to...

**Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**  
_Created by J.K. Rowling  
Anticipated for Impatient Readers by Chrissy_

_Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended._

_**A/N:** Thanks to Becky for pointing out my rather obvious reference to GoF at the beginning of the chapter. It's one of my favorite little character moments from Uncle Vernon, along with his dressing for intimidation! _

_**A/N 2:** This is the updated, fully beta-read version. Enjoy._

**

**

Chapter Three: The Knight Bus Returns to Magnolia Crescent

By six o'clock, even the Dursleys had run out of things for Harry to do. He was forced to wait by the front door, sitting on his trunk, his broom in one hand, his wand in the other. 

Uncle Vernon paced back and forth through the hallway. "Why haven't you left yet?" he snapped. "You'd think a person would have the decency not to interfere with his family's plans. We could have been planning to go out; you don't know. What if we had reservations somewhere?" 

"Well, you don't, do you?" Harry pointed out. 

"That's not the point!" Vernon snapped. "It's this… _abnormality _of yours. What do they teach you at that school, anyway? What about _punctuality_? Consideration? It will be the end of your kind, I daresay," he muttered darkly. 

"That's it. I'm going." Harry stood up, annoyed and ready to leave. _'Hedwig will have had more than enough time to reach the Weasleys by now. I would know by now if there was a problem.' _

Without even saying goodbye, Harry shoved his belongings out the door, which slammed shut promptly behind him. Harry distinctly heard someone mutter, "Good riddance!" and then all was quiet. 

Grunting under the effort, Harry got behind and pushed his trunk down the drive and onto the road. His broomstick and cauldron were piled on top. Once he had reached the next street, he paused to catch his breath, and then, hesitantly, stuck out his wand. 

Immediately, there was a great rushing noise, and an enormous purple bus ground to a halt in front of Harry. The doors opened, and the conductor stepped out. He was a tall, older man with brown hair and dark eyes. 

"Welcome to the Knight Bus," he intoned. He grabbed Harry's trunk and shoved it on board. Harry climbed on after him, the doors slammed shut, and Harry had to grab onto a nearby bedpost to keep from falling over. 

"Where to?" the conductor questioned, turning to Harry. As he looked at Harry for the first time, his jaw dropped in disbelief. His eyes immediately flickered up to Harry's scar, and then he looked away quickly. 

Harry waited for the impending exclamation, and was relieved when none came. "Ottery St. Catchpole," he replied, "the Weasley residence." 

The conductor nodded, his eyes now refusing to meet Harry's. "That'll be seven Sickles. Ten with hot chocolate, twelve with a hot water bottle and a toothbrush." 

"No thank you," Harry replied, pulling his money bag from his pocket and digging out the required coins. 

The conductor nodded quietly, and accepted the money. He led Harry to the back of the bus. "Your bed's here." He pointed. "We're in Huntingdon now; we'll be at your stop in about half an hour." 

Harry nodded. "All right." He sat back against the headboard of his bed, looked out the window, and immediately felt dizzy. He turned back to the conductor, who was retreating down the aisle. "Where's Stan Shunpike?" Harry questioned suddenly, recalling his last trip aboard the bus. 

The conductor barely turned around. "Quit," he said shortly. 

Harry watched him curiously, wondering why he seemed so hesitant, but didn't say anything further as the man returned to the front of the bus. 

Harry looked again out the window, watching cities, roads, and scenery whiz by at a dizzying speed. He didn't know where they were or where they were going, but one moment there were mountains in the distance, and the next minute the land was flat. 

Ten minutes later, the bus stopped. The conductor approached the witch next to Harry, saying softly, "We've reached Southampton, madam." The witch thanked him, and climbed out carefully. The conductor tossed her trunk out behind her and immediately the bus continued on its way. 

Harry watched as three other passengers disembarked, and then the bus was all but empty. Harry eyed the conductor again, this time somewhat nervous: only too aware that he was now alone with a man who was behaving very strangely toward him, and a driver who had yet to say a word. "Have we reached my stop yet?" he called down the aisle. 

The conductor turned around to study him, and seemed to be waiting for something. "Just another minute," he said finally. 

Five minutes later, they had reached Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry could see the Burrow just up the road. He moved to get off the bus, but stopped and turned, feeling a hand on his shoulder. 

The conductor was standing just behind him. "You're Harry Potter." 

Harry eyed him warily. "Yes." 

The conductor nodded, and clucked. "You shouldn't be traveling alone. I know what happened last year." He straightened up, and smiled. "Good luck, Harry. We'll be watching out for you." 

Harry opened his mouth to ask _who _would be watching out for him, but before he could, his trunk was tossed out beside him, the doors to the bus closed, and a flash of purple sent the bus on its way. 

Harry shook his head, half amused, half suspicious, and began to shove his trunk up the road to the Weasleys' house. It wasn't very far, but by the time Harry reached their walk, he was out of breath and exhausted. His trunk was very heavy from all the belongings he'd accumulated over four years at Hogwarts, including all of his schoolbooks, and the new ones he'd gotten for his birthday. 

After a moment, Harry reached the little wooden sign at the edge of the Weasleys' garden. Painted in big red letters were the words, "The Burrow". With renewed vigor, Harry pushed and pulled his belongings until he reached the front stoop. Excited, he reached out and knocked three times on the door. 

A moment later, he heard footsteps coming closer, and then the door was yanked open. Mrs. Weasley stood in front of him, looking shocked. "Harry!" she exclaimed loudly. "What are you doing here?" 

Harry heard the sound of supper ware clinking behind her, and four voices chorused behind her: 

"Harry!" 

"Is Harry here?" 

"Is he coming to stay?" 

"_Our_ Harry?" 

"Corking!" 

He heard more feet jumping up and running to the door, and a moment later, four red heads peered out from behind Mrs. Weasley. 

"Hi!" Harry offered weakly. He frowned. "Didn't you get my owl? I sent Hedwig ahead to tell you I was coming. I got a letter from Dumbledore earlier today; he said I could spend the rest of the summer with you." He hesitated. "Is that okay? I didn't mean to interrupt your supper or anything." 

"Of course!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. 

Mrs. Weasley smiled widely. "It's fine, Harry! You know you're always welcome here!" 

"Excellent," Fred and George agreed. 

"Well, come inside!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, ushering him in. "You must be tired. Have you eaten? How did you get here?" 

"I took the Knight Bus," Harry explained. He smiled. "And actually, I haven't had supper yet." 

"You must be hungry!" Mrs. Weasley said, suddenly bustling back into the kitchen. "Fred! George! Go and fetch Harry's trunk!" She poked her head out of the kitchen quickly. "He'll stay in your room, Ron?" 

"'Course," Ron replied, making an extra space at the table. "You can sit here, Harry." He grinned. "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it! Ruddy brilliant, this is!" 

"Language!" Mrs. Weasley called sharply. 

"Now we can go to Diagon Alley together," Ron continued as they both sat down. "You haven't gotten your books yet, have you?" 

Harry shook his head. "No. I just got the letter this morning." 

Ginny smiled from across the table. "We did, too." 

The twins came in then, carrying Harry's trunk between them. "Up to Ron's room?" George questioned. 

"Ron's room!" Mrs. Weasley echoed from the kitchen. She came out a moment later carrying a plate for Harry. "Here you go then, dear. Help yourself. There's ice cream for dessert when you're done." She took her seat at the end of the table. "How was your trip, Harry?" 

"It was all right," Harry replied, helping himself to a jacket potato. 

"The Knight Bus must have been dreadfully crowded," Mrs. Weasley fretted. "Did you manage to get a bed all right?" 

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Yeah. Actually, it seemed pretty empty." 

Mrs. Weasley paused. "And how are your aunt and uncle?" she questioned hesitantly. 

Harry snorted. "All too pleased to get rid of me," he said wryly. 

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "Oh dear," was all she would say. She leaned forward. "You said you got a letter from Dumbledore, Harry?" 

Harry nodded and frowned, feeling guilty. "Yeah. I'm really sorry you didn't get Hedwig's note before. She should have arrived by now." 

"That's odd," Ron agreed. "Well, perhaps she's just tired. Maybe she stopped along the way." 

"Maybe," Harry agreed, but he still felt worried. It wasn't like Hedwig at all. He looked up as Fred and George returned, and glanced around the table. "Where's Mr. Weasley?" 

"Arthur's still at work," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Ever since last spring, things have been rather hectic around the Ministry." She sighed. "Cornelius Fudge just refuses to see the truth about these things, and Arthur has to take care of it. Percy's been helping them, but both of them have still been working around the clock." 

"Oh," was all Harry could think to say. He couldn't help but feel guilty, as if Voldemort's actions were somehow connected to his own. He knew that Voldemort's rise would not be driven purely by his quest for vengeance, but certainly many of his actions were linked to that motive. Harry had thought about it all summer; he'd had nothing else to distract himself. In the end, he couldn't help but feel that Cedric Diggory had died for him the year before. He could only hope that he could prevent it from happening again. 

Ron grinned at Harry, oblivious. "Anyway, it gets Percy out of the house. He's really been obnoxious lately, especially since Mr. Crouch's death. He's heading the department now." 

"Only until a replacement can be appointed," Mrs. Weasley corrected, but she couldn't completely wipe the proud smile from her face. 

"Try telling that to Percy," George snorted. 

"I reckon if someone else tried to take over, Perce might just hex them when they weren't looking," Fred put in. 

"You're just jealous," Ginny argued. "At least Percy's got a real job." 

Harry saw her sticking her tongue out at the twins, and snickered into his potatoes. He took a bite and looked up again. "Have you heard from Hermione?" he asked Ron. 

Ron's expression darkened. "She wrote me once at the beginning of the summer. Too busy making time with her precious Vicky, I expect." 

Harry shook his head. "I got a birthday card from her," he said. "She's back from Bulgaria. Visiting her grandparents, I think. She said she might come here next week." 

Ron struggled valiantly not to look pleased, but Harry could see the tips of his ears turning pink. 

"Excellent," Mrs. Weasley said. "She can go to Diagon Alley with us next Tuesday." 

Supper was over too soon, and Mrs. Weasley hustled the children up the stairs. "I'll send your father up to say good-night to you if he doesn't get home too late. Off to bed, now." Ginny got off at the first landing, muttering good-night to everyone, and the boys continued up the stairs to the next floor. 

"Night, Harry," Fred said, as he and George went to their room. 

"Night," Harry replied. He entered Ron's room, and Ron pulled the extra mattress from under his bed. Maneuvering as well as possible in Ron's tiny room, they pushed his trunk out of the way and set the mattress out next to Ron's bed. 

"Did you get a chance to watch the match?" Ron asked him, his red hair contrasting horribly with the layer of orange that covered everything in his room. 

Harry shook his head. "No. I just got it last night and the Dursleys put me to work all day today." 

"Well, pull it out now!" Ron suggested eagerly, settling in on his bed. 

Harry dug the Omnioculars out of his trunk and held them up to his eyes. "When was the game?" he asked as play began. 

"Last week," Ron replied. "Percy had off of work and wanted to show off his paycheck, I think. He took all of us. Well, Mum and Dad didn't go." 

"That was nice of him," Harry commented as he rewound the Omnioculars quickly to watch the Cannons' Seeker perform a near-perfect Wronski Feint. 

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so." He toyed with the edge of his Chudley Canons blanket. "To be honest, Percy's been acting kind of weird all summer. He's not here all the time anymore - even when Dad gets home, Percy will come home even later. He's even stayed out all night before. You wouldn't believe the rows that he and Mum have had." He laughed quietly. "I went to look for Pig in his room the other day, and there were newspaper advertisements all over the place. I think he's looking for his own apartment." 

Harry shrugged, setting the omnioculars aside. "Well, he's nineteen now, right? He had to leave sooner or later. Bill and Charlie did." 

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I guess it's just… well, Bill and Charlie are so much older than I am. They both moved out before I even started at Hogwarts." He was quiet for a moment. "I guess I'm just used to having Percy around… not that I'll mind having the extra space!" He looked a little embarrassed. "Plus…um…I think he has a girlfriend." 

Harry's jaw dropped. "_Percy?_" 

Ron grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought too. But I know he dated that Ravenclaw prefect a few years ago. I don't know if it's her or someone else, but Fred and George reckon that's where he's been on those all-nighters." 

Harry burst out laughing. "That's really…gross." 

Ron laughed. 


	4. Chapter Four: Life at the Burrow

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
A/N: Thank you, Becky!  
  
*  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: LIFE AT THE BURROW  
  
Harry's days at the Burrow were even more fun than he'd ever remembered them being before. Spending so much time with the Dursleys made him grateful to have the family he wished were his own.  
  
Every morning, Harry was allowed to lie in for as late as he liked, but he preferred to rise early with the rest of the Weasleys. If he woke before Ron, he would help Mrs. Weasley and sometimes Ginny make breakfast for the rest of the family. If he woke up very early, he even saw Percy and Mr. Weasley off to work. Both continued to leave before the sun rose, and return long after it set.  
  
The fun he was having almost helped Harry to forget his uneasiness, but not quite. He had been at the Burrow for several days now, and Hedwig still hadn't arrived. Each day she was late, Harry grew more and more worried. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to have forgotten about Hedwig entirely, though, and Harry was loath to bring the topic up on his own. The Weasleys had enough to worry about, and Harry reminded himself that he didn't really know that anything had happened to Hedwig - she could be sick, or delayed by weather. Something in his head occasionally suggested a more sinister explanation, but Harry would angrily stuff that voice away, worried that he was becoming paranoid and losing his nerve.  
  
After four days, though, Harry could no longer deny that something had happened to Hedwig. He knew that she was in perfect health, and had always been a hearty bird. Four days was more than enough time for her to have even stopped on the way, and still have recovered and flown on.  
  
Harry's stomach churned at images of Hedwig, his pet, fallen somewhere along the way. She'd been his owl since the day he'd found out he was a wizard. She'd been a gift from Hagrid. He couldn't fathom finishing his time at Hogwarts with any other bird.  
  
It was a Saturday afternoon. Hermione had written saying that she would arrive the next day, and Harry could imagine what her reaction would be upon discovering that Harry had waited nearly a week to report the news of Hedwig - news which she, of course, would consider gravely significant. So he wanted to get it out in the open before she arrived.  
  
Arthur and Percy Weasley had finally managed to take the day off, and the family had decided to make a day of it. Mrs. Weasley was inside preparing the largest supper they had eaten all week, while the boys and Ginny played Quidditch in the garden (minus the Golden Snitch, of course). Harry circled as high as he could without being seen by the neighbors, savoring the feel of the air on his face and neck, gripping the smooth wood handle of his Firebolt, hoping that after a year out of training, he would still be able to play for the Gryffindor team when school began.  
  
He soared higher and higher around the garden, his problems with Hedwig and Quidditch and Hogwarts and the Weasleys and Voldemort peeling away with every foot like so many layers of paint. Underneath all of his troubles, he was Harry, and this felt wonderful.  
  
Too soon, it was time to go inside for supper. Harry walked beside Ron, only half-listening to his friend's jokes as he waited for the moment to pull Mr. Weasley aside. Then they were inside, and seating themselves around the table. Harry wished he'd found a way to bring up the topic earlier; he didn't think he could voice his fears in front of the whole Weasley family.  
  
As soon as they had all sat down, Mrs. Weasley charmed the food to float around the table. Harry reached out and grabbed the black pudding and chips when they came by him, and a glass of pumpkin juice. Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself; the food was delicious.  
  
He had barely begun to chew, though, when Percy, who was sitting beside him, cleared his throat. Harry looked over at him, but nobody else did. He cleared his throat again, and then finally, with a look of impatience, annoyance, and a fair amount of dread, banged his fist down on the table. "Excuse me!"  
  
"You're excused," Ron muttered from Harry's right.  
  
Percy shot him a withering glare. "I have something important to announce." His face was wrinkled with a strange mixture of arrogance and fear.  
  
"What is it, Percy, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly, ignoring the others.  
  
Percy stood, trembling slightly. "I.I'm going to be married." Immediately he sank back down in his seat and began to shovel food into his mouth, his head ducked as though waiting for a blow.  
  
There was silence around the rest of the table, broken only by the crash of Mrs. Weasley's glass as it dropped and shattered on the floor.  
  
Suddenly, everyone began to talk at once.  
  
"Percy, married?"  
  
"But who's he seeing, then?"  
  
"Yeah, Perce, who's the lucky lady?"  
  
"Does that mean we get his room when he moves out?"  
  
The only two who remained silent were Ron and Mrs. Weasley. Harry could see Ron's lips moving soundlessly, his shock apparently too deep for words. Harry looked down to the end of the table, and realized as he did so that the rest of the Weasleys were waiting for Molly's reaction, as well.  
  
Molly Weasley, however, looked quite calm. She folded her napkin and cleared her throat, and the noise died down at once. "Tell me," she directed at Percy, when all was quiet, "Who is the mysterious bride-to-be? Why haven't you introduced her to us before?" Her tone remained calm, but Harry could see the angry glint in her eye.  
  
Percy looked around the table, as if summoning his courage, and set his fork down. "Actually, Mother," he said levelly, "you have met her. Her name is Penelope Clearwater. We've been dating for more than three years now, you see."  
  
"Quite a lovely girl," Arthur Weasley ventured, his eyes still on his wife. "Wouldn't you say, Molly?"  
  
"Indeed." Her tone was icy, but she resumed eating without saying anything further. Ginny let out a relieved sigh, Fred and George tried hard not to laugh, and Ron began to smile.  
  
Percy, however, still looked troubled. "What do you have against Penelope then, Mum?"  
  
The chatter died down again as everyone waited for her response.  
  
"Nothing at all," Mrs. Weasley replied, refusing to look at him.  
  
Conversation quickly resumed, Harry felt himself sighing with relief. Mrs. Weasley's anger was truly something to be reckoned with. He didn't fancy the idea of ever being present when she was enraged - least of all over supper, and in front of all the other Weasleys.  
  
It wasn't until after supper that Harry remembered about Hedwig. He felt guilty - she had been his only pet for more than four years, so how could he forget about her so easily? And why hadn't he reported her disappearance before now? Some friend he was turning out to be.  
  
When Ron pulled Harry away to go upstairs - and presumably talk more on Quidditch - Harry excused himself. "I'll be up in a minute. I just have to ask your dad something."  
  
"Okay." Ron looked puzzled, and Harry couldn't blame him. They never kept secrets from one another - and sooner or later, Ron was bound to notice Hedwig's disappearance, too.  
  
"I'll tell you in a minute," Harry promised. Ron left, and Harry wandered out to the kitchen, where Mr. Weasley was supervising the clean-up - a challenging feat.  
  
"No! Fred - we're doing this the Muggle way! No magic!"  
  
"It's not that difficult," Fred argued, raising his wand and sending a plate into the cupboard - crashing into the cupboard. "Well, perhaps that wasn't the best illustration of my point. still."  
  
"It's all right, Dad," George put in. "See?" His plate zoomed beautifully onto the shelf, landing silently atop the other plates in the pile.  
  
Mr. Weasley sighed. "Boys, you're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. You know the rules."  
  
"No, they changed that rule," George replied, grinning at his twin. "Didn't you hear? Now all underage wizards are encouraged to do magic. It's good practice."  
  
A chuckle escaped Mr. Weasley's tired face. "That one might have worked if I hadn't tried it on my father when I was your age." He gave them both a stern look. "By hand, boys."  
  
"Erm, Mr. Weasley?" Harry interrupted uncomfortably.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" He tried to smile, but Harry could still see the worry- lines in his forehead. The knot of guilt and fear clenched even tighter in his stomach. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"  
  
"Of course, Harry." He followed Harry into the hallway. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"Well, it's Hedwig, sir," Harry blurted. "She hasn't arrived yet, you see. Do you - do you think something might have happened to her?"  
  
Mr. Weasley looked very worried, indeed. "How long has she been missing? Why didn't you tell me immediately?"  
  
Harry shifted his weight anxiously. "She's been gone a few days. I sent her ahead of me to tell you I was coming, but she never arrived. I-I thought maybe she'd got lost, or sick, or."  
  
Mr. Weasley was already shaking his head. "Not likely. Hedwig's a strong bird. She's not very old, is she?"  
  
"No."  
  
Mr. Weasley stared at Harry. "Harry, I don't want to worry you unduly, but. I need to know exactly what was in that letter."  
  
Harry's stomach sank. "You think.?"  
  
"It's possible that she was intercepted, yes."  
  
Harry swallowed. "Well. it wasn't very long. I just wanted to tell Ron that I'd be taking the Knight Bus up to stay with you."  
  
Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful. "I can't imagine how that information would have been of use. Unless, of course, he intended.to attack you here."  
  
Harry's stomach lurched again. "You don't think he means to attack the Burrow, do you?" he questioned anxiously. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you all in danger like this."  
  
Mr. Weasley smiled wryly. "Harry, I promise we are no greater a target now than we were without you."  
  
Harry looked at him quizzically. "Because of your work for the Ministry?"  
  
"Among other things," Mr. Weasley answered vaguely. Harry wanted to question him further, but Mr. Weasley suddenly turned and strode quickly into the living room, stepping right over Ginny, who was sprawled across the floor finishing homework. Harry quickly followed, and Ginny scowled at both of them from the floor.  
  
"You might at least warn me you were going to be stomping right over me. I would have moved." She gathered up the bits of parchment, quills and ink, and a moment later, Harry heard her mounting the stairs.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry," Mr. Weasley was saying quickly. He retrieved a small silver urn from the top of the mantelpiece and pulled from it a pinch of purple sand. "Nevertheless, I would feel much safer if we contacted Dumbledore."  
  
Harry nodded, feeling relieved. Dumbledore would know what to do.  
  
When Mr. Weasley sprinkled the powder onto the fire, the flames leapt high into the chimney, and then settled into a greenish-blue color. Mr. Weasley hesitated a moment, and then stuck his head into the flames, eliciting a gasp from Harry, who had only ever been on the receiving end of a fireplace-conference.  
  
"Hogwarts," Mr. Weasley spoke clearly, and the bluish flames leapt around him again. He turned to Harry. "You can go up to Ron's room, now, Harry. I'll be up to speak to you both in a moment."  
  
Harry nodded, but hesitated. "Look, I meant what I said before," he said finally. "I didn't mean to be any trouble. Maybe I could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron or something. I don't want your family to be around if Voldemort comes after me again."  
  
Mr. Weasley jumped at Voldemort's name, but shock quickly replaced fear on his face. "Don't even think about it!" he ordered sharply. Harry had never seen him look so serious before. "Harry, you're far safer here than you would ever be on your own, and - oh, yes, is that you, Dumbledore?" He turned back to the fire, signaling Harry to go from behind his back.  
  
Harry trudged up the stairs, fear blossoming again in his stomach, tying it up in knots; his head was spinning, and every shadow seemed to leap out at him, warning him of imminent danger.  
  
Ron was sitting on his orange bed, the look on his face mirroring the one Harry knew must be on his own. "What's going on?" he questioned guardedly, as Harry sank down on his own mattress.  
  
"Hedwig's missing," Harry said simply. "Your dad thinks Voldemort may be behind it."  
  
Ron's reaction was entirely predictable. "Well, I dunno, Harry," he said skeptically. "I mean, Vol-" He swallowed - Voldemort was a name that didn't easily roll off his tongue. "Voldemort. wouldn't he. attack you, or something? Why would he take Hedwig?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry replied. He hesitated, afraid of Ron's reaction. "Ron, he knows from my letter that I was coming here. He. he might want to try to kill me again. And. well, if he does."  
  
"Then you'll have a full wizarding family to protect you," Ron said firmly. He shook his head. "You can't go off blaming yourself. I know you didn't ask for. Voldemort to go after you."  
  
Harry could only smile grimly. He knew from first-hand experience just how deadly Lord Voldemort could be, and knew that he would do nearly anything to kill Harry. And from what Mr. Weasley had said, he wouldn't hesitate to attack them.  
  
"Ron," Harry questioned suddenly, "your dad said something about Voldemort already having it in for you. What was he talking about?"  
  
Ron paled. "I don't know. I. I didn't know about that. That's rather. disturbing. I'll have to ask Dad about that."  
  
He didn't have to wait long. The boys heard the loose floorboard creak as Mr. Weasley ascended the staircase, and a few seconds later, he was standing in the doorway.  
  
"Good news," he said, before either of the boys could get a question in. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore informed me that Hedwig arrived at Hogwarts this morning. She'll be fine after a bit of rest."  
  
"What happened to her?" Harry questioned immediately, despite his relief at her condition. "Where was she?"  
  
"They don't know," Mr. Weasley replied slowly. "However. she was quite. disheveled. Dumbledore suspects that she put up quite a fight. I think it's safe to assume that she was indeed intercepted by Voldemort." He, too, had to force the word out, but Harry was proud of the Weasleys. They were one of the very few wizarding families that accepted Voldemort's return and wanted to do something about it, rather than simply hiding and pretending he didn't exist.  
  
"Then he is planning to attack here," Ron said nervously.  
  
"Now, we don't know that, Ron!" Mr. Weasley protested. "It's possible he just wanted information, or." He sighed, and leaned against the doorframe. "It's possible," he admitted after a moment. "However, I would appreciate it if you would keep that information to yourself for the time being. I don't want to. scare anyone."  
"What else did Dumbledore say?" Harry questioned anxiously, not wanting to dwell on an attack any longer.  
  
Mr. Weasley fixed his stare on Harry. "He said you are absolutely not to go into London, or anywhere else. You must stay here, Harry. We cannot protect you if you leave."  
  
Ron stared at Harry. "You were going to leave?"  
  
Harry shrugged, and nervously pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I. I don't know.," he muttered.  
  
"You're not to leave," Mr. Weasley repeated.  
  
Harry nodded. "Mr. Weasley, is Dumbledore going to send Hedwig back here?"  
  
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No. He's afraid any correspondence she carries will be intercepted. You can see Hedwig when you arrive at Hogwarts next week. I'm sure he'll have more instructions for you then."  
  
Harry groaned inwardly. He knew what this meant: Hedwig was compromised. He wouldn't be able to send anything with her outside of Hogwarts. How would he talk to Hagrid? Or Sirius?  
  
Ron seemed to read his thoughts. "You could always use Pig," he pointed out. "Maybe not for long journeys, but. well, there's the school owls, too. Anyone can use those. Dumbledore will figure something out."  
  
"I know," Harry agreed.  
  
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Ah. well, I suppose I'll leave you to it. Goodnight, boys. Don't stay up too late; Hermione arrives tomorrow."  
  
This time Harry knew he wasn't imagining it: Ron's ears were definitely several shades pinker. 


	5. Chapter Five: The New Arrival

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: THE NEW ARRIVAL  
  
The next morning, the sun seemed to shine just a little bit brighter. When Harry stumbled down the stairs, considerably later than he usually did, he found Mrs. Weasley sitting at the table, sipping ice tea with two girls. He recognized the back of Ginny's head immediately, but it wasn't until the other girl turned around that Harry realized her identity.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Hermione?" Harry gasped. She didn't look like the Hermione he knew. Her hair was sleek and shiny, her skin was tanned and beginning to freckle, and Harry knew she had to be wearing make-up, but he couldn't figure out where.  
  
She giggled, gesturing to her hair. "Do you like it? I found this brilliant potion in Bulgaria that straightens it without me having to fuss with it at all. Viktor's mum promised to send me more when I run out."  
  
"It's. uh." Harry didn't know what to say, except, "It's nice," he finished lamely.  
  
Hermione seemed pleased, though. "Bulgaria was rather warm," she chattered on. "Of course, it was nice to get some sun, but I'm afraid I got a bit too much! I'm rather burnt."  
  
"Uh-huh," Harry replied noncommittally. He pulled a chair up to the table. "How's Krum doing?"  
  
Hermione blushed, and Ginny giggled. "Oh, he's. fine," she replied, off-hand.  
  
"'Spect he is, after you were done with him," a voice, thick with sleep, came from the stairs.  
  
Hermione looked up and gasped.  
  
"Ronald Weasley!" Molly barked. "Honestly! You march right back upstairs and put some clothes on!" Ron was indeed still in his pajamas, but when he returned a few moments later, fully clothed in Muggle jeans and a Chudley Cannons t-shirt, his demeanor seemed none the pleasanter.  
  
"How was your summer, Hermione?" he forced across the table, staring stiffly into his porridge.  
  
"It was all right," she answered carefully, matching his lack of eye- contact with some evasion of her own.  
  
Ron grunted. "You do anything besides snogging Krum?"  
  
"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley looked horrified, and quickly excused herself from the table.  
  
Hermione seemed to be between tears and fury. "I was not snogging Viktor Krum!" She sighed heavily. "I thought we were past this last year! Why can't you just accept it, Ron? I like Viktor, okay?!"  
  
"I bet you do!"  
  
"Have you got a better offer?" Hermione shot back. "At least Viktor is a true friend!"  
  
Ginny stood. "Ronald Weasley, I would think you'd know better by now. Honestly, she hasn't been here but an hour and you two are already at it again! Would you just act normal for once, please?! I haven't seen Hermione all summer, and I'd like to talk to her without one of you killing the other!" She said all this quickly and quietly, but amazingly enough, Ron seemed to listen to her. Harry was amazed, and made a note to ask Ginny later where on earth she'd learned to shut him up so fast.  
  
"Well, then," Ginny continued, adeptly diffusing Ron and Hermione's acute embarrassment. "Hermione, really, how was your summer? What did you do?"  
  
Hermione shrugged, taking her seat again. "It was all right." She glared at Ron. "Bulgaria was rather run-down, though. I didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would. The history was rather fascinating, but I was a bit distracted the whole time, to be honest."  
  
It was at this point that Ron left the room, muttering under his breath on the way to the living room. Harry was tempted to follow - he wasn't too keen to listen to Hermione's romantic adventures, either - but what she said next stopped him from getting up.  
  
"I was too worried about Harry," Hermione continued, rather loudly, as though hoping to draw Ron back. But she said nothing about Ron, instead casting her annoyance aside and concern transforming her features. "How have you been, Harry? Has anything. happened?"  
  
Harry hesitated, and finally shrugged. "Nothing happened to me, but we're rather worried about Hedwig. She went missing for a week, and showed up at Hogwarts when she was supposed to come here."  
  
"What happened to her?" Hermione gasped. "It's not like Hedwig to be so careless, is it, Harry? You don't think it has anything to do with You- Know-Who, do you?"  
  
"We say 'Voldemort' now," Ginny corrected quietly. Her gaze was still on Harry. "When did all of this happen?"  
  
Harry's face grew hot at the hurt look she was sending him. "Well. we talked with Dumbledore about it last night," he answered, feeling rather guilty. But then again, Fred and George didn't know yet, either. It wasn't as if they'd intended to leave Ginny out.  
  
Ginny nodded, and Harry saw a glint in her eye that reminded him of her mother. "Funny how something like this can happen in my own home and I'm still the last one to know." She got up and left without another word.  
  
Hermione looked concerned about more than just Hedwig. "What's all that about?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know exactly. but Ron told me she's been complaining all summer. Seems to think no one believes she can handle things, treating her with kid gloves, and all that." Hermione nodded sagely, and Harry turned to her, curious. "What? Do you know something I don't?"  
  
Hermione hesitated. "Well. I'm not sure I should say, but. well, Harry, you know Ginny's having trouble at school."  
  
"What?" Harry was surprised. "I thought she got good marks. Ron was going on about."  
  
Hermione was shaking her head. "No, no, not her marks, Harry. I mean. well, she doesn't really have any friends. She's awfully lonely, she was all last year, and she's afraid to be around you and Ron because of. well. one thing and another."  
  
"How can Ginny not have friends?" Harry questioned incredulously. "I've seen her plenty of times around school with the other girls, and. and she went to the Yule Ball with Neville last year!"  
  
Hermione snorted. "Honestly, Harry, you're not very observant, are you? I mean, sure, I've seen her around those girls, too, but she's the quiet one, only ever really hanging on the outskirts. and Neville and Colin Creevey, they're not exactly the cream of the crop, are they? Oh, she's terribly clever, Harry, and you know how kind she is, and she's really a wonderful person, but. well, most of those kids - even the Gryffindors - they're. well, they're still a bit afraid of her."  
  
Harry's stomach lurched. "Because of the Chamber of Secrets?" he questioned quietly. Hermione nodded sadly, and Harry felt his face redden again, this time in anger. "But. but that's ridiculous! She didn't hurt anyone! It was Voldemort controlling her the whole time!"  
  
"Well, not everyone believes that, Harry," Hermione counseled softly. "There are still people who refuse to believe anything connected with Voldemort anymore, you know that. Look at Cornelius Fudge."  
  
"But that's different!" Harry argued. "Anyway, he wasn't even Voldemort yet, he was Tom Riddle, and it was Lucius Malfoy's fault all along! Ginny didn't ask to be taken advantage of! She's just a kid!"  
  
"I think she'd argue that she's not a kid anymore," Hermione replied. "And anyway, I'm glad you see it that way, Harry, but it doesn't mean everyone else does."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. He could certainly sympathize with that. All his life, people had whispered as he passed, pointed fingers, believed their own version of every truth surrounding his life. He knew what it was like to be an outcast. but he had Ron and Hermione, and having them stand by him was sometimes all that kept him from going insane with anger and frustration. "Maybe we ought to pay more attention to her," he suggested suddenly. "I mean, you're practically her best friend."  
  
"Her only friend."  
  
".and Ron's her brother. And I'm. well, I don't know what I am to her anymore, but I understand what she's going through."  
  
"That's nice of you, Harry," Hermione said, smiling.  
  
Harry shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well. I just figure we owe her that much. I'm sure she's figured out stuff we've been up to loads of times, and she's never given us away."  
  
Hermione stared at Harry intently, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.  
  
"What?" Harry questioned, exasperated and uncomfortable under her gaze.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Nothing," she said finally. She stood and suggested: "Let's go see what the others are up to." Harry agreed, and they walked out to the living room, where Ron, Percy, and the twins were occupying the couch and armchair. Ron and the twins were playing a game of Exploding Snap, while Percy sat in the chair in the corner, gazing out the window, unusually idle.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Hermione whispered.  
  
Ron looked up at their entrance, and heard Hermione's question. He seemed to have forgot their earlier argument, or at least was trying to put it behind them. "I should imagine he's rather lovesick," he answered her, grinning wryly.  
  
Hermione's eyebrows lifted. "Really?"  
  
Percy huffed. "I am not lovesick, Ron. If you must know, I was just thinking about. er. work."  
  
"Like I said, lovesick."  
  
Fred and George laughed, and even Harry couldn't help cracking a smile. Hermione didn't look too impressed, though. She made her way to Percy's corner, sat on the footrest across from him, and the two talked in quiet tones for a long while.  
  
Harry, meanwhile, made for the Exploding Snap game. "Deal me in?" They played for an hour, until Mrs. Weasley came bustling in and shooed them out of the house.  
  
"Go on, now!" she urged, as they put their feet into their shoes and headed out the back door. Harry grabbed his Firebolt, and Fred, George, and Ron took their Cleansweeps from the corner and the four Weasley boys plus Harry and Hermione wandered up the hill behind the house until they found the field the twins liked to use for Quidditch.  
  
"We'll just wait down here and watch," Hermione announced, taking a seat on the green grass, and Percy joined her.  
  
Harry, Fred, George, and Ron mounted their brooms and kicked off of the ground. They spent a few moments just circling the field, diving and swooping, and then George released the Bludgers and picked up the Quaffle, and shot again into the air. He handed Fred his club, tossed the Quaffle to Harry, and they took off around the field, tearing after the Bludgers.  
  
"Go on, Harry, shoot on him!" Fred yelled.  
  
"If Ickle Ronniekins wants to play Keeper this year, he's going to need his practice!" George shouted.  
  
Harry looked over to Ron. "You're going to play Keeper?"  
  
Ron turned red again. "Well. thinking about it. still have to try out.," he muttered.  
  
Harry grinned. "Excellent." And he shot the Quaffle past Ron into the imaginary hoop. Ron groaned and swore, but he didn't miss another shot. Diving this way and that, even on a Cleansweep Seven he managed to look graceful, and with an air of confidence that only years on a broomstick could instill. They practiced like this for awhile, until Harry grew bored of throwing the Quaffle around, and Ron fetched some golf balls from the sports bag for Harry to chase.  
  
Ron tossed the first ball, and Harry dove after it, chasing it within a foot of the grass, and then, feeling his fingers close around it, he pulled up sharply, climbing higher and higher in the air.  
  
Ron tossed another ball, and Harry dove again, but he hadn't got more than a second's start when he heard one of the twins shout, "Ron!" and then a sickening crunch. He looked up in time to see a Bludger streaking away from Ron's face, leaving a fine red spray in the air behind it.  
  
Harry could see Ron falling off his broom, and he quickly urged his Firebolt higher. He could hear Hermione and Percy screaming below him, and the twins bellowing from across the field. Ron was fifty feet off the ground, falling quickly. Harry couldn't get to his wand. Ron was thirty feet from the ground now. twenty feet. he wasn't going to get there in time!...  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione was on the ground, her wand in the air, her eyes fixed on Ron's body.  
  
Ron had stopped falling. Harry swooped under him and pulled him onto his broom, then headed for the ground. They landed softly, and the Firebolt fell onto the ground. Harry dragged Ron clear onto the grass, and laid him gently on the ground. Hermione came running over a moment later, looking pale and far less confidant than she had a moment before. Percy and the twins were right behind her, Fred carrying Ron's broom along with his own.  
  
"Is he all right?" Hermione questioned anxiously.  
  
Fred knelt beside Ron, examining his unconscious brother. His face was a bloodied mess. His left eye and nose had already begun to swell, and they couldn't tell what else was wrong with him through the blood leaking from his nose and mouth. "Looks like his nose is broken," Fred muttered, for once completely serious. "I don't think we can tell anything else until he's awake."  
  
Percy nodded and pointed his wand at Ron. "Enervate," he rasped nervously.  
  
Ron blinked slowly. "What. what happened?" His voice was hoarse and cracking, and when he coughed, they could see the blood coming up from his throat. He tried to sit up, but George shoved him back down, obviously relieved.  
  
"Not so fast, little brother," he ordered. He waved a finger in front of Ron's eyes. "How many? What day is it? When are you going to ask out Hermione?"  
  
"Honestly, George!" Hermione reacted angrily, swatting at him.  
  
Ron's reply was similar. "Gerroff me, George!" He rose unsteadily to his feet and grabbed hold of Harry's arm to keep from falling. "I'm fine. Think I've had enough of Quidditch for today, though."  
  
"Do you remember what happened?" Hermione questioned as they all headed back down the hill toward the Burrow.  
  
Ron tried to shrug, resulting in a wince of pain. "I saw a big black thing coming toward me, then it slammed into my face. I guess it knocked me out. Must have been a Bludger." He glared at the twins. "Thought that was your job."  
  
Fred shrugged, grinning. "Well, we are out of practice. Anyway, Ron, if you can't stand the heat."  
  
"You two be quiet," Percy ordered. "He's taken it very well, I'm sure you'll notice. Although, Ron, Quidditch is an awfully ridiculous thing to risk life and limb for. I mean, really, if Hermione wasn't quick in a crisis, you might've died!"  
  
"What does Hermione have to do with anything?" Ron questioned, stopping dead in his tracks.  
  
"Well, you fell off your broom when you passed out," Harry explained. "I caught you before you hit the ground, but I wouldn't have made it if Hermione hadn't kept you in the air."  
  
Ron grunted. "Well.uh."  
  
"Saved by a girl, Ron," Fred reminded him. "Better pay her back. How 'bout a kiss?"  
  
"Shut up, Fred." Ron didn't look too happy about his situation. Harry knew Ron would hate being indebted to Hermione, although he didn't think Hermione was the type to try to take advantage. "Guess I owe you one, Hermione," Ron said finally, and they continued down the hill.  
  
***  
  
"What were you thinking?!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "You could have killed him, Fred! You too, George! I want to know which one of you sent that Bludger at him! It was completely uncalled for, not to mention dangerous! And you!" She turned to Percy. "What were you thinking, letting them play with real Bludgers?! You of all people, Percy; you used to be so responsible! And you remember what happened to Charlie in his fifth year! Why, I couldn't bear it, having to go through that again!" She dabbed at Ron's bloody nose with a dishtowel, muttering under her breath.  
  
"What happened to Charlie?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
"We'll tell you later," George said hastily. He turned to his mother. "Come on, Mum, Ron's fine. He just got a good whack in the nose. It happens!"  
  
"Builds character," Fred added.  
  
"Look at Harry! He lost all the bones in his arm a few years back, but he didn't let it stop him!" George threw in.  
  
Ron shoved Mrs. Weasley's arm away. "Really, Mum, I'm fine. Doesn't even hurt anymore," he lied, wincing.  
  
"I can see that," Ginny commented wryly from the doorway. She'd come downstairs to investigate the racket, and had seemed amused at Ron's condition, once it had been established that he had suffered no permanent damage.  
  
Mrs. Weasley sat back on her heels, staring up at Ron, who had been dumped unceremoniously onto a chair in the middle of the kitchen. "Well, there's not much more I can do for that nose," she said. "I never was very good as a mediwizard. Maybe we should take you to Saint Mungo's."  
  
"No!" Ron shouted immediately. "I'm fine, Mum. Can everyone just stop fussing over me?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "Fine. But I'm disappointed in you all. You should have more sense than this. I'll be telling your father when he gets home." She brushed past Ginny and went back to the garden, where she'd been weeding when they had come home, practically dragging Ron through the door.  
  
Fred let out his breath as soon as she was gone. "What does she mean, 'more sense'? We were just having a bloody game of Quidditch, for Merlin's sake!"  
  
Hermione stared at him, her chin trembling. She'd been quiet and pale since they'd returned, almost as though she were in shock. "She's right, Fred! You might have killed him!" she snapped.  
  
"I'm fine," Ron said gruffly.  
  
"See?" George said soothingly. "He's fine. Your spell saved him! It's just a broken nose!"  
  
"That spell might not have worked, George!" Hermione argued shrilly. "I haven't used it since first year, and I've never had to hold up a human body! You don't know how hard that was! I thought I was going to lose control and drop him, and. oh." And with that, Hermione fainted.  
  
There was an immediate uproar. "Hermione!" Ron yelled, his eyes bulging. Ginny got to her side first, and shooed them all back.  
  
"Honestly, give her some air! And someone go and fetch Mum!"  
  
George left quickly, and Harry pushed Ron back down in his chair. A moment later, Mrs. Weasley bustled in and pulled Ginny back. "It's all right, she'll be all right," Mrs. Weasley said crisply. She looked up. "Someone get her a glass of water." Then she turned back to Hermione and lifted her wand. "Mobilus Corpus," she muttered, and Hermione rose into the air. "I'm taking her upstairs and putting her to bed. Bring the water up after her. and some fruit, perhaps," she added as an afterthought. "She'll be hungry when she wakes up." She prodded Hermione gently with her wand, and guided her up the stairs. Ginny followed with a glass of water and an apple.  
  
Ron stared at his mother's back. "Aren't you going to do anything?" he called after her. "Shouldn't you wake her up, make sure she's okay?"  
  
"She's fine, Ron," Mrs. Weasley called back firmly. "She just needs some rest. I'll explain it to you in a moment."  
  
They waited in silence, worried about what could make Hermione faint. She had never done this before, Harry was sure. Had she? Certainly not at Hogwarts; he would remember. Maybe she was prone to fainting at home. still, Hermione wasn't exactly weak.  
  
Mrs. Weasley returned in a few moments. "She's fine!" she announced, holding up a hand to silence the onslaught of questions. "Just a bit drained, the poor dear. Not used to performing that sort of magic, you see. And under stress." She glared at the boys. "Ron weighs a bit more than a feather, you know. You might have bothered to mention her little spell earlier. I could have sent her straight to bed so she wouldn't fall and hit her head!" She sighed. "I'm amazed she could do it, really. Very difficult, and for her age." She turned to Ron. "You'd best get up to bed, too. You're not in any condition to be up and around."  
  
Ron rolled his eye - the one that wasn't swollen shut - and stood slowly. "I think I'd rather sit in the living room. Anyone up for a game of chess?"  
  
There was a round of disinterested shrugging and murmurs, and Ron nodded. "Me neither."  
  
Percy was the first one to move. He stood before Ron. "I'm going out for a bit. Tell Mum." He sighed, searching the floor for answers. "Tell her I'll be back for supper," he muttered finally. He pulled out his wand and Disapparated with a small pop!  
  
"Maybe I'll play chess with you, Ron," George offered half-heartedly.  
  
Fred shook his head. "We have work to do." He raised his eyebrows and sent his twin a pointed glance. "Remember?"  
  
George started. "Fred. I don't think."  
  
"It has to be done before we leave!" Fred argued cryptically.  
  
"What does?" Ron asked.  
  
"Nothing," George sighed. "All right." The twins left the room.  
  
"What was that all about?" Harry questioned, bewildered. Fred and George were usually up to something. after his "little" investment in their joke shop last year, though, he had hoped they would share a little more about what they were doing. It was usually entertaining, at the very least.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Dunno." Strangely enough, he didn't seem to care, either. He stood still for a moment. "Do you think Mum would let us go visit Hermione?"  
  
Harry tried not to stare at him. "Probably not. She's sleeping, I guess."  
  
Ron nodded. "Oh. Yeah." And then, "I guess I ought to apologize to her when she wakes up. Wasn't very nice to her before, was I?"  
  
Harry didn't answer. They walked out to the living room together. Ron was walking better on his own now. "Think I've got this figured out.," he would mutter occasionally. "Balance is a little off, but."  
  
Harry sat down on the couch, and then stood immediately. His Firebolt! He'd forgot it when Ron fell! "Ron," he said quickly, "I have to get back up to the field. I left my broom. I think we left the bag, too."  
  
"I'll go with you," Ron offered.  
  
Harry laughed. "Ron, you can barely move."  
  
"No, no!" Ron insisted. He stood. "See? Anyway, Harry, you can't go alone."  
  
Harry felt annoyed. "Ron, look at yourself. This is ridiculous. I won't be more than a minute."  
  
"No," Ron said firmly. "Look, you know what Dad said. It's not safe. I don't mean to be a prat about this, but it's important!" He made a furious noise, obviously very frustrated. "Look, I know we've had a lot of fun before, but. Mum and Dad sat me down after last year. We were really worried about you, Harry. And they're going to murder me if they find out I let you go out alone."  
  
"Let me?" Harry cut in angrily. He felt a great swell of fury taking control of him. He'd had enough of it. All summer, people had bossed him around. He didn't get a say in what he did, where he went - he had to spend almost the whole horrible summer with the Dursleys. Hadn't he proven that he could take care of himself? "You're not my dad, Ron, you can't -"  
  
"No, I'm not!" Ron agreed. "But what about Sirius? I'd wager you listen to his advice. What do you think he would say?"  
  
Harry's arguments deflated. He felt angry, but he couldn't argue. He couldn't be alone. He couldn't make his own decisions. "Are you coming, or aren't you?" he bit out gruffly.  
  
Ron nodded. "We ought to go out the front, then," he said slowly. "Mum's in the garden, and she won't be very happy about this."  
  
"With reason." The boys spun around to see Ginny standing in the doorway, tapping her wand against her leg.  
  
"How long have you been standing there?" Harry exclaimed, startled, and rather annoyed.  
  
She ignored his comment, staring at both of them angrily. "Honestly, don't you two get it? Ron, you're not exactly a line of defense for Harry. A broomstick isn't worth it."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Ginny, come off it, there's no one up at that field."  
  
"Oh no?" she questioned him, an eyebrow cocked. "Then why wouldn't you let Harry go alone? I'll tell you why!" she said forcefully, striding closer to them. "'Better safe than sorry', Ron! You, at least, should know better than that! Harry hasn't been here all summer; he doesn't know what's been happening." She stared at Harry. "Although I'd still expect you to have some amount of healthy respect for your life, Harry. And I did think you had more sense."  
  
"You're sounding an awful lot like Mum," Ron said nastily.  
  
Ginny's eyes brimmed with tears. "Stop it! That's not fair, Ron! You know I'm right about this! I don't want you to go!"  
  
Ron walked past her, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're talking about. Coming, Harry?"  
  
Harry followed him, feeling slightly guilty at Ginny's tearful face. 'But why should I be guilty?' something inside him said furiously. 'What does she know? It's my life!'  
  
He strode up the hill beside Ron and refused to look back. 


	6. Chapter Six: The Price of a Firebolt

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*  
  
CHAPTER SIX: THE PRICE OF A FIREBOLT  
  
They could tell something was wrong as soon as they reached the edge of the garden. Every light in the Burrow was on, and Harry could see silhouettes pacing back and forth in front of them. The sun was just reaching the edge of the horizon, and the shadows the bushes cast on the grass were eerie.  
  
Ron seemed to notice the problem as well. "Do you suppose something's happened?" he offered weakly, as they crept closer to the window.  
  
"I don't know.," Harry replied uneasily. As they reached the window, he tried not to trample the flowerbed, but he wanted a closer look. He could see Mrs. Weasley through the doorway to the living room, sitting on the couch, and an old man. Dumbledore was sitting beside her, holding her hand. "Oh, no," he muttered.  
  
Ron looked shaken, and when he looked up at Harry, his face was horror-stricken. "You. you don't think something happened. I. I mean, Dad's in there, right? He's okay?" He peered closer. "Where's Hermione?"  
  
"She's over there on the stairs with Fred and George. God, I think she's crying, too," Harry muttered.  
  
They heard a small gasp behind them, and the boys turned simultaneously.  
  
"Ginny!" Ron hissed furiously. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
She had fallen out of the bush, but didn't seem to notice the scratches and tiny red welts running up and down her arms where her fall had been broken by Stinging Nettle. She inched closer to them. "What's going on? Why are they all crying? It isn't Him, is it?"  
  
"No," another voice growled behind them. Sirius Black was towering over the lot of them, his fierce gaze traveling over Ginny, then Ron, and finally settling on Harry. "But they don't know that. You'd better get inside." He waited for them to mount the stairs of the front stoop, and then stalked in behind them, slamming the door.  
  
Mrs. Weasley came to the door to investigate the noise, and uttered a yelp when she saw them all standing there. "Ginny!" she shrieked. "Ron! Oh, Harry!" She ran forward and smothered all three in a ferocious hug that lasted until Harry felt he couldn't breathe anymore. At last they were released, and the room seemed to be drawing in around them.  
  
Mr. Weasley was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his face ashen. Beside him was Percy, who looked equally upset. Hermione, George and Fred sat on the stairs, staring at the three with shocked and - in the case of the twins - angry eyes. Sirius stood beside them, looking just as livid.  
  
And Dumbledore was standing on the edge of the living room, his face twisted in the same furious expression Harry had seen the year before, following Cedric Diggory's death.  
  
Dumbledore was the first one to speak. "Have I, or have I not, made it expressly clear to you all the danger that we are facing?" His voice was trembling with barely-suppressed rage, and Harry couldn't help but feel terrified. He'd never had that kind of fury directed at him before.  
  
Ron was the first one to find his voice. "Y-Yes, sir."  
  
"Then what on earth possessed you to leave this house alone?" Mr. Weasley questioned. Harry had never seen Mr. Weasley angry before. and after this experience, he rather hoped he'd never see him angry again. His eyes were dark, his cheeks flushed, his lips pressed into a straight line. Gone was the compassionate twinkle in his eyes, the gentle laugh lines that surrounded his eyes and mouth. He looked as dangerous as Dumbledore.  
  
He didn't know where he found the courage to do it, but he figured this must have been the moment of bravery the Sorting Hat put him into Gryffindor for. Harry stepped forward hesitantly. "It was my fault. I convinced Ron to go with me."  
  
"Why?" Sirius questioned, with a careful hold on his voice.  
  
"To." Harry hesitated. His excuse sounded ridiculous now, and he stared at his shoes as he finally uttered it. "To get my broomstick."  
  
"His broomstick!" Sirius exploded immediately, flinging his hands in the air. "He went to get his bloody broomstick!" He stared at Harry angrily. "So it was your idea, then."  
  
Harry felt his face growing hot, and a family surge of anger filling his veins. "Yeah. It was! I wasn't going to leave it up on the field where anyone could take it!"  
  
"And you thought it was worth risking your life for?" Sirius shouted.  
  
Surprisingly enough, it was Fred who stepped in. "Look, Mr. Black, Harry obviously didn't mean anything by it. We were up on that field earlier today, and Ron got hit with a Bludger. I'm sure Harry didn't mean to miss his broom."  
  
"The broom is not the issue, Fred," Mr. Weasley said. He looked very tired, suddenly. He looked over to Sirius and Dumbledore. "Would one of you like to explain, or should I?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head graciously, suddenly appearing much calmer. "It involves the Ministry, Arthur. Why don't you explain." Sirius grunted his assent.  
  
Mr. Weasley sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Harry, the reason you were brought here for the remainder of the summer holidays was. well. we know that Voldemort has been working with someone - a group of people, in fact - inside the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Percy started. "Dad, that's top-level information! Are you -"  
  
Mr. Weasley waved his hand for silence. "I'm sure," he answered Percy. "And I'm sure that everyone in this room is trustworthy." He turned back to the others, and especially Harry. "We had you brought here so that you would be ready to. well, to run, and at a moment's notice. Voldemort is no longer an abstract, Harry. Up until tonight, I thought you would understand that better than anyone." The disappointment was evident on his face, and Harry felt ashamed. "I guess I was wrong."  
  
Mr. Weasley turned to his wife. "Molly, I'll leave it to you to discipline Ron and Ginny. I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed."  
  
Mrs. Weasley kissed him good-night, and glared sternly at the three guilty teenagers as her husband staggered up the stairs. "Do you have any idea what you three did to us tonight?" she hissed. "Arthur popping home from work, frantic with worry, yelling to grab Harry and go straight to Hogwarts. and you three, missing! What were we supposed to think? What were we supposed to do?!"  
  
Harry didn't know about Ron and Ginny, but he felt extremely confused. "What do you mean? We're going to Hogwarts now? Did something happen?"  
  
Sirius studied them all, considerably calmer. "Yes, Harry, something happened," he said quietly. "Voldemort's first strike, it would appear."  
  
"What?" Ron reeled as though he had been slapped. "What happened?"  
  
"A bookstore on Diagon Alley, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore answered. He, too, appeared calmer. "The proprietor and several customers were killed an hour ago, while you, Harry, and Miss Weasley were up fetching Harry's broom. The Dark Mark was sent into the sky, and a message was left with the only surviving witness: that Harry Potter would be next." He paused, not for dramatics, but simply in exhaustion. "You're in danger, Harry," he stated simply.  
  
"Voldemort hasn't just returned," Sirius added. "He's getting stronger. He didn't even bother waiting for nightfall. There was a reason behind this strike, and my best guess is that he thought Harry would be there."  
  
"We don't know that," Percy argued, standing up straighter. "If they were after Harry. well, they probably would have attacked here."  
  
"Unless they were aware of the defensive measures protecting this house," Sirius shot back. "Or they might have known he would be coming to Diagon Alley." He paused, glaring at Harry. "Of course, they may have just been trying to scare him. Did it work?"  
  
"How can you say that?" Hermione whispered from the stairs. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, but her cheeks were beginning to darken in anger. "Of course it worked! They're all scared! Look at them! And your yelling at them isn't helping anything!" She appeared frustrated and infuriated. "You're all being so completely narrow-minded! Why don't you just be quiet and listen to them, for God's sake!"  
  
"Because this isn't a game, Hermione!" Sirius yelled back. He paused, obviously struggling to contain himself. "They put their lives on the line for a broomstick! It was an utterly stupid and selfish thing to do!"  
  
"Well, fine!" Hermione shot back. "I agree! It was stupid, and it was certainly selfish, but standing here just yelling at them for an hour isn't going to change anything!"  
  
"ENOUGH!" George finally bellowed. "I've had enough of the shouting, too. Why don't we all discuss this like adults?"  
  
"Oh, that's rich coming from you, George," Mrs. Weasley muttered.  
  
"Nevertheless, Molly, I believe your son has a point," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry was relieved to see that his usual demeanor seemed to have returned.  
  
Harry stepped forward. "Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore," he began. "I'm sorry. Really."  
  
"We all are," Ginny added softly. She hadn't spoken a word since they had stepped inside, and Harry had almost forgot she was there. "We never should have gone out tonight."  
  
"It won't happen again," Ron added hoarsely.  
  
Mrs. Weasley scowled. "I should think not!" She glared at them for a moment, and then her expression softened. "I. we were so worried. I think it would be best if you all just went up to bed."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Agreed."  
  
Sirius hesitated. "I would like a private word with Harry first, Molly, if you don't mind." He glanced at Harry, who tried not to cringe with fear. "I'm done yelling," he added quietly.  
  
"All right, then," Dumbledore said. He turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Molly, I'm sorry about all of this. I do hope you're feeling better. I really must get back to Hogwarts now, but let me know if there is anything further I can do."  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled for the first time that night. "Thank you very much. I'm very glad you arrived so quickly. I was losing my mind!"  
  
"One has a tendency to do that when one's children are in danger," Dumbledore said, smiling kindly. He patted her hand, and turned to Sirius. "Will you be following, then, when you're done?"  
  
Sirius nodded. "I'll be along in a minute." He turned back to Harry. "A word, please?" Dumbledore Disapparated, and Sirius and Harry went into the kitchen.  
  
As soon as they were alone, Sirius grabbed Harry and wrapped him in a fierce hug. It only lasted for a moment, though, and then he backed away, a look of embarrassment on his face. "Sorry," he muttered gruffly.  
  
"Me, too." Harry was surprised. He'd never had a. well, a dad to hug him like that. He'd never had someone care that much about him before. "Really, Sirius, I know it was stupid. I swear I'll think more, okay?"  
  
Sirius grinned wryly. "Thank you. You have no idea what that does for my peace of mind." The grin faded. "I was really, really worried tonight, Harry. All I kept thinking about was your parents. They. they trusted me to take care of you, Harry. And what if I messed up?" He shivered. "What if I found you. the way I found them?" His eyes stared past Harry, distant, and Harry shivered, too. But Sirius looked back at him quickly. "I'm sorry if I scared you out there."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Nah. I mean." He grinned. "I guess. well, I sort of deserved it."  
  
"'Sort of'?" Sirius cocked an eyebrow, staring down at his godson fondly. "So I guess you do like that broomstick, eh?"  
  
Harry couldn't help it; he began to laugh. It was the last thing he'd expected Sirius to say. Sirius began to laugh too, and the two of them stood by the table, tears streaming down their faces, howling for no reason at all. Finally, they both quieted, and Harry was startled. The cold feeling he'd been carrying around all summer, all the bad memories of the year before - Cedric's death, Voldemort's rise, his parents' apparitions - it had all seemed to fade away a bit. He didn't feel quite so angry anymore.  
  
"Thanks, Sirius," he said quietly. He grinned. "It's kind of nice to know someone worries about me that much, anyhow."  
  
Sirius looked surprised, and then smiled. "Good." He sighed, and offered his hand. "Well, I hate to leave."  
  
".but you have to," Harry finished as they shook. He stepped back, and Sirius stared at him for a long moment.  
  
"I don't know when I'll see you again, Harry," he said quietly. "I'll try to make it soon, but you know how it is."  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I know."  
  
Sirius smiled at him, and before their good-byes could become awkward, he Disapparated.  
  
Harry leaned back against a chair. Sirius was gone. It might be another few months before he would see him again.  
  
He realized he'd forgot to ask about his birthday present. 


	7. Chapter Seven: Crime and Punishment

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN: CRIME AND PUNISHMENT  
  
Harry awoke slowly the next morning. It took him a moment to remember the events of the night before, but as soon as he did, he was full of foreboding.  
  
After Sirius had left, Harry had finally left the kitchen. The Weasleys were all gone and the hall dark; presumably they had gone to bed. Harry had climbed the stairs carefully and quietly, not wanting to wake anyone and make them angrier than they already were.  
  
When he'd reached the landing, he'd been surprised to hear noise coming from Ginny's room. And it sounded like. Ron! And Hermione!  
  
"They're having a row," Ginny had said quietly behind them.  
  
Harry had jumped, aware that it was the third time that day she had snuck up on them. "Why do you keep doing that? You surprised me!"  
  
Ginny had grinned, and followed Harry up to Ron's room. "They could be awhile," she informed him. She had giggled. "They sound just like Mum and Dad." Then, affecting a high, shrill voice, "'We were ever so worried! What were you thinking?'" And then a deep voice. "'Never you mind, dear; only, I love you madly, so would you be quiet while I kiss you?'"  
  
Harry had clapped his hand to his mouth, trying not to laugh loudly enough for the feuding couple to hear below. "He hasn't really said that, has he?" he had clarified, when he thought he had control of his laughter.  
  
Ginny had grinned again. "Not yet."  
  
They had both laughed again, but when they grew quiet, the conversation took on a more serious tone.  
  
"Ginny, I think Ron and I owe you an apology," Harry had found himself saying.  
  
Ginny had looked surprised. "For what?" She blushed. "Well, actually, I guess I know for what, but I would kind of like to hear you say it. I don't get too many apologies from Ron."  
  
Harry had smiled. "Well, he's sorry, too. We should have listened to you in the living room, when you told us not to go. It's our fault we all got in trouble, and I'm going to tell your Mum in the morning so you don't get punished, too."  
  
Ginny had shaken her head and smiled wryly. "You don't know Mum very well, do you?" Her smile had faded, and she leaned forward. "Harry, don't you understand why they were all so upset? It doesn't matter that your Firebolt was out there, or that it might get stolen. What they were trying to tell you down there is that there is no excuse. You probably could have been saving a baby from a freight train, and they wouldn't have cared! You have all these people protecting you, Harry, and they're risking their lives to do it. How do you think they feel that no matter how hard they try to protect you, you won't even protect yourself?"  
  
Harry had sat back, stunned. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose nervously. "Ginny. I never. I guess I never thought about it like that."  
  
Ginny had sat back in her seat, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I. I don't mean to lecture you or anything. I know you know all this stuff, it's just. well, we all worry about you."  
  
Ron had come in a few moments later, so incensed from whatever had been said with Hermione that he hardly noticed Ginny's presence. For her part, she had scooted out before he could make any kind of rude comment.  
  
"Goodnight," she'd said softly from the door, and closed it gently behind her.  
  
"I tried to apologize," Ron had muttered, climbing under the covers and switching out the light, "but nooooo."  
  
Harry grinned at the memory. 'They say that fighting is a form of loving.' he thought to himself. If that was true, than Ron and Hermione loved each other quite a lot.  
  
***  
  
True to her word, Mrs. Weasley's punishments that day were swift and severe - and as Ginny had expected, no guilty party was exempt.  
  
It turned out that quite a few chores had been neglected what with Arthur and Percy away all the time, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to be making full use of her opportunity to set things right about the house.  
  
Harry was dismayed to find a list of chores attached to Ron's bedroom door when the two went down to breakfast the next morning. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they found that Ginny had received an equally long list.  
  
"Now," Mrs. Weasley intoned as they entered the kitchen, "I don't want to hear any complaining. I think you've got off rather well. Those lists would have been far longer if I hadn't already cleaned out the attic last week."  
  
Ron looked outraged, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Hermione appeared behind his mother, an apple in her hand. She didn't say anything, but between her stance and her expression, she seemed to agree whole- heartedly with Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Oh well," Ron muttered as they left the house five minutes later, laden with Muggle garden shears and hedge-clippers, "there's always Diagon Alley tomorrow. Just have to stay focused on the positives, that's all."  
  
If Harry ever doubted that he was a true member of the Weasley family, it seemed the garden gnomes didn't share his uncertainties. Crookshanks decided to come help de-gnome the garden, as well. He didn't manage to chase too many gnomes away, but the gnomes seemed to consider the fluffy ginger cat an oddity worth exploring, which made them easier to find. De-gnoming the garden was by far the easiest chore, though, as they all soon discovered.  
  
"Stupid.lousy.bloody.," Ron muttered, sweating profusely as he yanked at a patch of crab grass between Mrs. Weasley's roses. "Why couldn't she have a normal Muggle garden?"  
  
"Actually, Ron, Muggle gardens have crab grass, too," Ginny pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, Ron, you ought to take Muggle Studies," Harry added, grinning triumphantly and raising a clump of grass and dirt for Ron to see. "And look, it's not so hard."  
  
Ron nodded, his face wryly sarcastic. "Yes, I can see that." Then, suddenly, his hands jerked back as the weed gave way, and he toppled backwards, howling in pain as his hands swung up and met his swollen nose.  
  
Ginny was the first one to lose control. She stared at Ron for a long moment, clutching her stomach and biting her lip, while her face turned slowly redder. Suddenly she burst out laughing, and sank to the ground, covering her mouth with her hand. "Sorry, Ron," she gasped, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. "I know it's. it's not. really funny."  
  
Harry had to disagree with her. It was quite hilarious, actually. Ron was on his back on the ground, but when he sat up, they could see that dirt from the grass had spattered all over his face, increasing the usual number of freckles. And meanwhile, through his mouth there streamed a steady flow of curse words - enough to earn him a week's worth of chores if Mrs. Weasley was listening.  
  
It wasn't long before Harry started laughing, too, and then Ron stared at the two of them for a moment, and started whooping as well.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's head appeared through the kitchen window. "What is so funny?" she demanded. "I would expect you all to take this more seriously. This is a punishment, you know."  
  
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry apologized, biting his lip to try to keep from chuckling.  
  
Ron turned around slowly until he was facing his mother, and then she smiled, too. "Well then," she said, clearing her throat, "why don't you. get back to work, and. I'll see if I can't round up some sandwiches for you."  
  
The afternoon was looking up.  
  
***  
  
Mr. Weasley and Percy arrived home earlier than usual, that night, and the family sat down to supper together.  
  
"How was your day, Arthur? Anything new at the office?" Mrs. Weasley questioned pleasantly, as if the previous day's events had never taken place. Harry had been amazed at her change in demeanor as soon as he, Ron, and Ginny had presented her with their completed lists of chores. She had smiled and thanked them, and no more had been said about Harry's broomstick or their panic the day before. It seemed that all was forgiven.  
  
Arthur Weasley frowned. "No, nothing new, unfortunately." He paused. "The Order has been reassembled, and of course they're searching for Voldemort, but we have no news of his whereabouts just yet. And somehow Fudge has managed to excuse the attacks yesterday. I just don't know-"  
  
"'The Order'?" Harry questioned.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances, but it was Ron who spoke up. "The Order of the Phoenix," he explained, but he looked very uncomfortable.  
  
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, and he looked worried, too. "Harry. Hermione. nothing that is said tonight can leave this room, do you understand? You mustn't even speak about it amongst yourselves after tonight."  
  
"Arthur," Molly said softly.  
  
"I think they should know, Mum," Percy said suddenly. He looked rather angry. "They have the right to decide."  
  
"Decide what?" Hermione questioned very curiously, laying her fork down. "What is the Order of the Phoenix? I've never heard of it!"  
  
"Good," Mr. Weasley said shortly. "That's as it should be."  
  
Ginny smiled at Hermione. "Oh, don't mind them. The Order of the Phoenix is. well. it's an organization, really. Mum and Dad were members back when -"  
  
"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "That's not the sort of information you advertise, now more than ever!"  
  
Mr. Weasley stared around the table, his gaze finally resting on Harry and Hermione. "Harry, Hermione. my children know about the Order of the Phoenix. They had to." He exchanged a glance with his wife. "Perhaps it's time you understood our involvement, as well."  
  
Percy stood. "I'll be in my room." Mrs. Weasley nodded, and Percy bowed his head politely and left the room.  
  
Harry's brow furrowed. What was wrong with Percy now? And why was he so upset about this Order, whatever it was? He couldn't imagine the Weasleys involved in anything bad. They were the kindest people he knew.  
  
Mr. Weasley seemed to sense Harry's thoughts. "Percy disagrees with the Order in matters of principle," he explained slowly, "and he has a right to. We've agreed to respect each other's opinions on the matter."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked. "What is the Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Weasley?"  
  
"It's an organization, as Ginny explained before," Mr. Weasley replied. "Its members are devoted to the destruction of Voldemort."  
  
"Well, surely Percy doesn't disagree with that!" Hermione laughed anxiously, looking around the table.  
  
"No, of course not," Mrs. Weasley agreed. "No, our goals are the same. We simply disagree on methods. Percy. Percy believes that the Order is unnecessary and distasteful."  
  
"Why?" Harry questioned. "What does the Order do?"  
  
Fred fielded this one. "They fight Voldemort," he stated shortly. "Look, why don't we leave it at that for tonight? I want to eat."  
  
Harry agreed, but still felt curious. He could sense that he wasn't being told everything, and he wasn't used to this treatment, coming from the Weasleys.  
  
***  
  
After supper, Harry and Hermione both followed Ron to his room. When Ron got to his bedroom door and still found Hermione behind them, he stared at her.  
  
"What do you want?" He almost sounded hopeful, and Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Honestly, Ron," she muttered. Then she spoke louder. "I should think it was obvious. I want to know what the Order of the Phoenix really is."  
  
"Me, too," Harry added firmly.  
  
Ron paled, and swallowed. "All right," he said finally. "Get inside, then."  
  
Once they had sat down, Harry and Hermione stared at Ron expectantly.  
  
"All right, then," he said again, and he exhaled slowly. "The Order of the Phoenix. look, like Dad said, this is dangerous information. I. I know you would never tell anyone, but. you can't even mention it, do you understand? I don't know why Dad let it slip tonight. he must have been planning to tell you, and. but then, that would mean he's really going to." He seemed to be talking to himself now.  
  
"Ron?" Hermione prodded gently.  
  
Ron started. "Right. Look. to be honest, I agree with Percy." He looked uncomfortable. "I mean, what Mum and Dad do. and I respect what they're doing, mind you, but. well, I'm not sure the Order of the Phoenix is really a good thing to have around. In fact."  
  
"But they fight Voldemort," Hermione replied, confused.  
  
"Yes, well. obviously that's not the part I disagree with. It's just. they're like Death Eaters, Hermione," Ron replied angrily. "Like I said before, what Mum and Dad do is their business, and I didn't mean they're Death Eaters or anything, but. the Order of the Phoenix fights terror with terror. They're not afraid to use the same means that Death Eaters use to. to achieve their ends."  
  
Harry swallowed. Images of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared in his mind, unbidden, their faces replacing those of the Death Eaters he had seen the year before. and then another figure, and a cold voice muttering, "Crucio!"  
  
He shivered violently, and shook his head. It was too unnatural. It just didn't fit. The Weasleys could not be capable of torturing anyone.  
  
"They have, you know," Ron replied, his voice shaking, and Harry realized he'd spoken aloud.  
  
Hermione gasped.  
  
Ron nodded slowly. "They have. Well, Dad, anyhow. I remember when I was a little kid, and he would have nightmares all the time. he still does, but they've been getting worse lately. And Charlie. well, he as much as told me last year. After everything that happened at the Tournament, and with Cedric." He broke off, seeing the look on Harry's face. Harry had spent the summer doing anything but thinking of Cedric.  
  
Hermione stood, clearly shaken. "I. Ron, I don't know what to say."  
  
Ron shook his head. "It's best to just pretend they don't. do that stuff, I mean," he said slowly. "I mean, it's. it's almost evil, isn't it?"  
  
"It's not," Harry said sharply. More images from the year before filled his head. When he closed his eyes, he could still see Cedric's open- eyed stare. the green light flashing around them, just like his parents. and all those people Voldemort had killed, floating from his wand, perhaps the only part of him that still remembered all of his crimes. "Maybe they're right," he said slowly, ignoring Ron and Hermione's stares. "Maybe those Death Eaters are only getting what they deserve."  
  
"Harry.," Hermione began slowly.  
  
"He's nutters," Ron muttered. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."  
  
"And you do?" Harry shot back. He took a deep breath. He didn't want to fight with Ron and Hermione on this. It wasn't worth it. They were his friends. "Look, I've seen what they do to people," he tried to explain. "And. I feel bad for your parents. I mean, your dad having nightmares and all. I know how that goes. but what they're doing is worth it."  
  
"I know," Ron said quietly.  
  
"I." Hermione faltered. "I'm sorry, Ron. I guess things are going to be hard for everyone, now."  
  
Ron stared at her. "Thanks, Hermione."  
  
Hermione stood. "Well. I suppose I ought to get to bed. Ginny will be wondering where I've got off to. and we have an early day tomorrow." She turned to the door.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron said suddenly. She turned back very quickly, and Ron began to turn red. "I. uh. that is, I'm sorry I teased you before. and. thanks for saving my life yesterday."  
  
Hermione grinned. "You're welcome."  
  
Harry stared at Ron in amazement. He knew that Ron would need to build up his courage to actually apologize to Hermione, and. Merlin's beard, was it actually possible that he had been thinking about Hermione all though their conversation?!  
  
Feeling suddenly very disgusted, Harry climbed under his blanket and tried to sleep. Ron and Hermione. it was too weird.  
  
So why did he feel jealous? 


	8. Chapter Eight: Diagon Alley

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT: DIAGON ALLEY  
  
The house was in an uproar when Harry woke the next morning. Ron was already awake, pulling a t-shirt over his head, and scrambling out of bed. "I wonder what all the fuss is about."  
  
Harry could venture a guess from the sunlight streaming through the window. If they were going to Diagon Alley, then they obviously weren't getting the early start the twins had lobbied for.  
  
By the time Harry reached the kitchen, Ron had thrown himself into the argument.  
  
"Mum!" he was howling. "You can't do this! It's not fair! It's not right!"  
  
"We're all out of Dungbombs!" George complained.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's eyes flashed. "And it's high time, too! I'm sorry, George, but you'll have to come up with a better argument than that!"  
  
"Well, what about our books?" Fred questioned hopefully. "We'll have to go in for those."  
  
"What's going on?" Ginny questioned from the stairs. She and Hermione had finally emerged, as well.  
  
"We're not going to Diagon Alley!" Ron answered furiously. "Not even for books," he added, seeing Hermione open her mouth in protest.  
  
"I've already told you," Mrs. Weasley said impatiently. "Your father picked up your school things yesterday. They're all here." She gestured through he living room door, where they all noticed for the first time the coffee table groaning under a mountain of books.  
  
Ron opened and closed his mouth furiously, but could not seem to think of any cogent argument.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley," Harry ventured, "I thought we finished our punishments yesterday. Didn't we do everything you asked?"  
  
"Oh, honestly," Mrs. Weasley laughed. "No, Harry, this is not part of your punishment. Really, I'm sorry you won't be able to go this year, but it's simply too dangerous, and that's that. Now!" She turned back to the porridge brewing on the stovetop. "Who would like some breakfast?"  
  
Ron was shaking his head in amazement, and Harry could tell what he was thinking. Mrs. Weasley simply didn't understand. Diagon Alley was far more important than just books. for Harry, it was his only chance to move about in the wizarding world, other than Hogsmeade visits. and now it appeared that it was going to be a whole year before he would see it again.  
  
An owl flew through the window at that moment, and Harry looked up in surprise. There had been hardly any owls going through the Weasleys' house for the past few days, especially for any of the teenagers. After all, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already here; who would they need to write to?  
  
It appeared to be a delivery owl, though. It quickly dropped a newspaper on the kitchen table, and then landed on the edge of the countertop, clicking its beak expectantly, waiting for money.  
  
"Oh, honestly!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, quickly fishing five Knuts from her pocket. "A bit late, today, aren't we?" she questioned the bird testily, as it flew back out the window.  
  
Ron picked up the paper and cleared his throat. "Ministry Attempts to Cover Return of Dark Lord," he read slowly.  
  
Mrs. Weasley dropped her spoon and gasped. "What?"  
  
"It's the headline," Ron said shakily. "And look, there's a picture of the Dark Mark over Flourish and Blotts." He continued to read:  
  
Cornelius Fudge has made mistakes in the past, but the Ministry's  
latest blunder has some members of Britain's wizarding community calling  
for his resignation.  
  
Sources inside the Ministry of Magic have revealed that Sunday's  
attack on Diagon Alley was not the first such incident, and that more  
attacks are suspected.  
  
"This is most definitely the work of the Dark Lord," one source  
commented, on condition of anonymity. "Cornelius Fudge needs to admit  
this now before conditions get any worse. If we ignore his return, we  
will find ourselves in the same situation we were in fifteen years ago."  
  
On Sunday, an attack was carried out in broad daylight on a bookstore  
on Diagon Alley. The Dark Mark was found hovering in the sky above it.  
Mr. Alfred Blotts, the owner, was found dead inside the store. Nine  
customers were killed, including two children buying their schoolbooks.  
  
When asked to comment, French Minister of Magic Jacques Singe had  
this to say: "Minister Fudge has made a grave mistake in keeping this  
news from world attention. If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is indeed rising  
again, every wizarding community around the world must be ready to  
defend itself."  
  
Mr. Fudge could not be reached for comment.  
  
Ron looked up, shaken. "What do they mean, 'two children were killed'?" he questioned his mother. "You didn't tell us that! Who were they?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Oh, I only found out this morning. the poor dears."  
  
"Who were they, Mum?" Ginny questioned, sounding quite frightened.  
  
"It wasn't anyone we know.," George put in hesitantly.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked close to tears. "Well. perhaps you ought to sit down."  
  
Ginny looked even paler, and took her mother's advice. "Who?" she questioned softly, her voice shaking.  
  
"I'm afraid Dana Creevey was killed, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "She was about to start her first year."  
  
"C-Colin's sister?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I've already owled their mother. Oh, that poor woman. I simply can't imagine." She sighed again. "There was another girl, as well. A fifth year, I believe. Susan Bones."  
  
Hermione gasped. "Oh my God. Susan. I know her."  
  
"I knew her grandparents," Mrs. Weasley said fondly. "They were both killed in the war, but. they were truly wonderful people. They did everything in their power to stop You-Know-Who - er, Voldemort - from rising, everything they possibly could. Hannah Bones went to school with him, you see. She was there right from the beginning."  
  
Harry had remained silent through all of this. His fists were clenched at his sides, his teeth gritted tightly. A thousand thoughts and feelings were running through his head, not the least of which was guilt. It was his blood, he realized. His blood had helped bring Voldemort back. His blood was coursing through Voldemort's veins. His blood had helped raise the arm that killed Susan Bones and Dana Creevey.  
  
***  
  
An hour later found Harry brooding in the garden. He wanted to be alone, and the garden seemed to be the only place unoccupied at the moment.  
  
Hermione was in shock. Ron had taken her to the living room and tried to get her to play some Exploding Snap to cheer her up, but it hadn't worked. She kept talking about the two girls who had died. She'd known Susan Bones; they'd sat together in Arithmancy.  
  
The twins had followed them out to the living room, but they seemed more worried about the death of Dana Creevey. They kept shooting glances at Hermione, and muttering about attacks on Muggle-borns, obviously worried.  
  
Ginny had only allowed her mother to comfort her for a few moments; then she had disappeared into her room to draft a letter to Colin Creevey, Dana's brother, and one of her only friends at Hogwarts.  
  
And Harry had retreated to the garden. He didn't think he could stand to be around the Weasleys right now. An overwhelming wave of guilt had taken hold of him, and would not be shaken off.  
  
For the first time in his life, Harry was completely at a loss for what to do. He knew what he wanted to do - he wanted to go after Voldemort. He wanted the chance to do the right thing. He wanted to end the danger, to save Sirius, and Professor Lupin, and Professor Dumbledore, and the Weasleys.  
  
The Weasleys. he remembered his conversation with Ron and Hermione the night before. He still didn't understand the Order of the Phoenix. He didn't know how it had been created, or who all of its members were.  
  
But he understood a bit better today. True, the night before he had been sympathetic to the Weasleys. He had thought he could even accept the torture and killing.  
  
But now he understood. He understood how someone as kind and gentle as Mr. Weasley could force himself to do something so horrible. He knew how it felt to want something so badly that you were willing to do anything for it, to give anything up. Harry wasn't sure he liked the way it felt. 


	9. Chapter Nine: The Hogwarts Express

HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX  
  
Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy  
  
Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
  
A/N: This is the last chapter I finished writing before Book 5 was released, so it will be the last chapter published. A big thank-you to everyone who reviewed, and to all of my readers. I'll miss working on this story, but I can't say I don't like the real version better!  
  
*  
  
CHAPTER NINE: THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS  
  
It was a Monday morning, but it still felt like Sunday night. Harry had got almost no sleep over the weekend, and what little rest he'd got was plagued by nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Voldemort's snake-like face and beady red eyes staring back at him. he could hear his laughter. he could hear his mother screaming.  
  
So when Mrs. Weasley made the rounds that morning to wake them all up, Harry was the least reluctant to leave his bed. He knew that all he could look forward to were more nightmares; why bother? And soon he would be at Hogwarts. Then maybe things would get better.  
  
Hogwarts. The Great Hall. The Common Room. and he'd get to see Hedwig! But what would he do? What would he say when he saw Colin Creevey? Colin had always looked up to him, and surely he didn't know the details of the dark ritual that had given Voldemort his body. he wouldn't know that it was Harry who was responsible for his sister's death. but Harry would know. He would know, and he would be reminded every time he saw Colin, or his younger brother, Dennis. He would know whenever someone mentioned Susan Bones, or Cedric Diggory. He would know when he saw Cho Chang, and saw that look on her face again.  
  
Cho. He hadn't thought about her since the beginning of the summer; it was too painful. When he thought of Cho, he couldn't see her as he used to, exhilarated after a game of Quidditch, circling the field on her broom. He couldn't even see her in Cedric's arms as they danced at the Yule Ball the year before. whenever Harry thought of Cho, all he could think of was the look on her face - horrible, distraught, frenzied, sick - when she'd seen Cedric's body. When she'd seen Harry return with Cedric's body.  
  
It wasn't fair. A great swell of anger filled Harry, and he wished that Cedric were alive so that he could yell at him. Cho loved Cedric. He could see it in her face when Cedric had died. She would still love him, this year. And how could he compete? How could he compete with someone who was dead? Cedric would always be perfect in her memory, and he would always be just. Harry.  
  
Then his anger turned, and he felt sick. Had he really been angry at Cedric for dying?  
  
No. He couldn't be. He wouldn't be.  
  
Sighing, he rolled over and climbed out of bed, hoping that Ron wouldn't question him. He wouldn't be able to answer.  
  
***  
  
"Now then, you have your trunks? Your books? Your lunches?" Mrs. Weasley's eyes drilled into Harry. "Harry, do you have Hedwig's cage?"  
  
He held the cage up dutifully, and then, finally satisfied, Mrs. Weasley gave a curt nod and began to direct the luggage out the front door and into the two cars that were once again on loan from the Ministry of Magic. The cars' spacious interiors left room to spare once they had all loaded their trunks and equipment, and despite the fact that they were all older, with larger bodies. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to get a car to themselves, while Mrs. Weasley rode with Ginny and the twins.  
  
The ride to the train station was short and silent. The car seemed to dart in and out of traffic in a way that defied the laws of physics. Harry was sure there was more at work than simply the mechanics of a Muggle car, but it wasn't really important.  
  
Hermione and Ron seemed to sense Harry's depression, and although at first they attempted to draw him out of his shell, they soon lapsed into silence and left him to his thoughts. Part of Harry was grateful for the privacy, but another part of him was angry. He needed to talk to his friends, about anything! Even if they had to discuss the attack on Flourish and Blotts, it would be better than this silence. He wasn't sure what they were thinking, and it worried him.  
  
When at last they reached London, Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He leapt out of the car, brushing past Ron and Hermione to get his trunk out of the boot of the car. Then, still without speaking to his friends, he dragged it inside, found a trolley, and made his way to the familiar barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Barely hazarding a glance to make sure no Muggles were watching, he walked straight into the barrier without flinching.  
  
Suddenly the Muggle world dissolved around him, and he found himself stumbling out onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The Hogwarts Express was already sitting on the tracks, waiting for the students still mulling about on the platform. It was a quarter of eleven o'clock, and usually at this time in the morning on the first of September, the platform was full of students saying their goodbyes to family and greeting friends.  
  
This year it was strangely empty, and Harry felt slightly sick as he looked around. There were no bursts of laughter, no cheers, no excitement. The older students looked subdued and grave; the younger students looked downright tearful. Harry could see a first-year girl clinging to her mother's robe as her father tried to coax her into boarding the train.  
  
He stood there, blocking the barrier, waiting for Ron and Hermione, and wondering for the first time what the next year would really be like. He hadn't stopped to consider it before; he had always taken Quidditch, and Hogsmeade visits, and classes, and even the occasional wizard duels for granted. this year was bound to be different.  
  
"Harry!" a breathless voice exclaimed in his ear. He turned around, startled, to see Hermione coming to a stop, her trolley in front of her. "We wondered where you'd got off to. Mrs. Weasley was a bit worried."  
  
He felt suddenly guilty. "Sorry," he muttered. "I just. I guess I needed to see it again." Indeed, he felt better knowing at least that Hogwarts was waiting for him. The good things that had happened in the past four years. they weren't all a dream. There was more to his life than dreariness and death, after all.  
  
"Harry!" Ron came to a skidding halt behind Hermione, barely managing not to knock her over with his trolley. "Would you two move out of the way? Mum and the rest will be in in just a moment, you know."  
  
They hurriedly moved their luggage out of the way, and then a moment later, Fred and George burst through the barrier, grinning widely from ear to ear.  
  
"What's so funny?" Ron questioned suspiciously.  
  
George snickered, and opened his pockets, flashing something shiny for the briefest moment. "She forgot to check," he muttered in an undertone. "We'll have our order forms and our products this year."  
  
Just then, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny came through the barrier, and George hurriedly flattened his pocket shut.  
  
"What are you all waiting around for?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, glancing at the clock above the platform. "Heavens, we've only ten minutes left! You'd best get your trunks loaded, then you can stand around and talk."  
  
The ten minutes flew by. The trunks were loaded shortly, and then they changed into their robes. His ill-fitting Muggle clothes always embarrassed Harry; he was all too happy to throw his robe right over them. Once they had changed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly searched for an empty compartment. It wasn't hard to find; there didn't seem to be a full compartment this year.  
  
"I don't see Colin or Dennis anywhere," Hermione murmured, obviously concerned.  
  
Ginny, who had stowed her trunk with theirs, sighed softly. "He. well, both of them. They're not coming this year. Their parents won't allow it. I got an owl from Colin this morning."  
  
"I'm not surprised," Hermione offered. "After all that's happened."  
  
They settled down, and then Ginny, turning slightly pink, turned around. "I guess I'd better be off, then. Have a nice trip."  
  
Harry started in his seat. "Don't you. you wouldn't like to sit with us, would you?" he found himself offering. "There's plenty of room."  
  
Ron groaned, though it quickly turned into a cough after Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
Ginny glared at Ron. "Don't mind if I do." She settled in across from Harry, who was suddenly alarmingly aware of her knees bumping his own.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered, sitting up straighter to pull his legs back.  
  
Ginny just murmured something and turned to look at Hermione. "So what do you all usually do on the ride there?" she laughed nervously.  
  
Ron glared at her. "Talk. About private stuff." He turned to Harry, sending a look that said quite plainly, "Why did you have to invite her?"  
  
Ginny looked down at her lap. "Oh. Well. you could just pretend I'm not here, I suppose. O-Or. I guess I could go."  
  
"Don't even think about it!" Hermione exclaimed, but the warning in her tone was quite obviously directed not at Ginny, but at Ron.  
  
"How about a round of Exploding Snap?" Harry suggested, hoping to relieve the tension that had suddenly invaded their compartment. It worked - for the time being - but he had to wonder what the rest of the year would be like; if he could deal with this constant sibling rivalry. He wondered if it wouldn't make him crazy, or guilty, or.  
  
"All right," Ron agreed. He pulled a deck from his pocket and began to deal.  
  
"Well, well, well," an all-too-familiar voice drawled from the door.  
  
Harry sighed, and didn't even bother looking up. "Lost your way, Malfoy?" he questioned flatly. "Still searching for the girls' toilet?"  
  
Draco Malfoy stepped closer, Crabbe and Goyle just behind him, until Harry was forced to look up.  
  
"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, Potter," he breathed, fingering a shiny badge on his lapel. "Do you know what this means?"  
  
"You've joined the circus?" Harry offered lightly.  
  
Malfoy's eyes flashed, and Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles behind him.  
  
"No bloody way," Ron was muttering beside him. "It has to be fake. There's no way in hell Dumbledore would make him a prefect."  
  
"Language, Weasley," Malfoy replied, his eyes shining maliciously. "That's ten points from Gryffindor!"  
  
Ron exploded. "We're not even at school yet! You can't do that!" he shouted.  
  
Hermione stood up, shaking, behind him. "Um. yes he can, Ron. Why don't you sit down?"  
  
Ron turned a furious glare on her. "Siding with him now?"  
  
Hermione stared right back at him. "I'm trying to keep you out of trouble."  
  
"That's right," Malfoy murmured gleefully. "I'm afraid your girlfriend is no longer a part of the Dream Team, Weasley. You may have to actually behave yourself this year."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Ron spat.  
  
Crabbe and Goyle stepped closer menacingly.  
  
Malfoy looked delighted, as though Christmas had come early. "You mean she hasn't told you, then?" he crowed, grinning widely. "Well, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise! Why don't you tell him now, Granger?"  
  
Hermione blushed. "No. really. that's not necessary."  
  
Harry stared back and forth between them, and finally stood to meet Malfoy. "That's enough," he said evenly. "Why don't you go sit in the prefects' compartment?"  
  
"Oh, don't say that, Harry. I'm sure they don't want him there," Ginny called suddenly from the back. "After all, who would?"  
  
Ron started and stared back at his sister, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  
  
Malfoy was smiling as well, by his grin was far less friendly. "Ah, yes," he murmured, "the youngest Weasley. I gather you're preparing ahead of time for the position, then? Building up your resume, hoping a position as prefect will count more than family connections, I suppose?"  
  
Ginny just stared at him, smiling slightly. "As opposed to you. well, don't worry, Draco, I'm sure your family's connections will make up for your short-comings. after all, intelligence isn't really that necessary in the real world, is it?"  
  
Harry was trying desperately not to laugh. Ginny had always seemed like. well, rather like a mouse. It was quite hilarious to see Malfoy beginning to lose his composure after less than a minute of her mocking. It looked like Ron was trying not to laugh, too. His hand was covering his mouth as though he was about to cough, but Harry could see his cheeks twitching.  
  
Hermione, however, looked to be panicking. "Well!" she exclaimed, too cheerfully. "Why don't you all go. enjoy yourselves, then? I'm sure you have other people to see."  
  
"What's your hurry, Mudblood?" Malfoy spat, now openly hostile.  
  
There was a sudden intake of breath, and Ron's grin dropped.  
  
"Waiting for some privacy to practice your next love spell?" he continued. "Which one is it this time, the orphan, or Weasley, here?" He studied them both as Ron's face grew steadily redder. "No, I suppose it couldn't be Weasley, could it? Not really your style to go after a nobody, is it, Granger? You like men with pow-"  
  
He never got any further.  
  
"Mutus," Ginny had uttered quite calmly, leveling her wand at Malfoy's throat.  
  
Malfoy blanched, and stared at her for a moment in shock. Then he opened and closed his mouth slowly. "What did you do?" he mouthed silently. He turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who stood there for a moment, staring dumbly at him, and then Crabbe seemed to catch on. He lurched forward, his fist raised, but Harry got there first.  
  
"Oh, no you don't," he muttered, grabbing a fistful of Crabbe's robes and, feeling rather suicidal, shoving hard.  
  
Surprisingly, Crabbe stumbled backward, looking shocked that someone had managed to match his brawn.  
  
"Oh, dear," Hermione murmured. "We're not supposed to be fighting!" she added anxiously.  
  
Malfoy was sending Ginny a look that could only be described as murderous. He allowed Goyle to pull him from the compartment, however, and Ron slammed the door shut behind them.  
  
As soon as they were gone, Ron, Harry, and Ginny burst into laughter.  
  
"That was classic!" Ron exclaimed, patting Ginny on the shoulder.  
  
"Good one," Harry added.  
  
Ginny looked very flattered.  
  
Hermione was the only one who remained seriously. "Oh no. oh, don't you understand?" she exclaimed desperately.  
  
The other three calmed down and turned to her, trying to remain serious.  
  
"It's not that bad, Hermione," Ron said soothingly. "We've done stuff like this before, and we've never got in that much trouble."  
  
"You've never had witnesses!" Hermione exclaimed angrily. "Oh, I could hex all three of you! This really isn't funny at all!"  
  
Ginny looked at her soberly. "I'm sorry, Hermione, really, but Ron looked like. well, better to mute Malfoy than kill him, right?"  
  
Ron was seized by a new fit of laughter. "Depends on who you ask," he choked out.  
  
Hermione looked furious now. "This is so unfair.," she muttered.  
  
Ron calmed down, and all four of them sat down again. "What's so unfair, Hermione?"  
  
When she looked up, Harry was surprised to see Hermione's eyes brimming with tears. She fumbled with her robes for a moment, and then shoved a badge under Ron's nose. "This!" she exclaimed. "This is what's so unfair!"  
  
Harry leaned forward in his seat. The badge looked suspiciously like Malfoy's. "Are you a prefect, Hermione?" he questioned.  
  
"Oh, congratulations!" Ginny exclaimed.  
  
Hermione sniffed, but smiled at Ginny.  
  
"You're a prefect." Ron was looking just as furious as Hermione had a moment before. "You're a prefect?!"  
  
Hermione looked angry now, too. "Yes!" she replied hotly. "I got the letter the first week this summer!"  
  
"And you didn't bother to tell us?" Ron exclaimed.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry echoed.  
  
"Oh, why do you think?" Hermione replied, exasperated. "Because of this. this. interrogation! Being a prefect is an honor!"  
  
"Why, because you get to lord it over the rest of us?" Ron returned hotly. "Just fantastic. Just when we were loosening you up, Hermione." He turned to Harry. "How long do you think it will take her to report us, eh? Think that will get her the Head Girl badge?"  
  
Harry felt that was a bit unfair, and Hermione seemed to agree. She jumped to her feet and ran from the room without another one.  
  
"You absolute prat!" Ginny hissed angrily. She stood and followed Hermione.  
  
Ron sank back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chair. "Oh, I'm the prat?" he questioned sarcastically, after Ginny left. "I'm not the one who's a bloody prefect!"  
  
Harry didn't feel particularly inclined to argue. He didn't want to get into an argument with Ron. Still, he felt Ron was being a bit unfair to Hermione. It wasn't as though she had asked to be a prefect. and she was still Hermione. It wasn't as if she was going to turn them in for every little thing.  
  
The ride was long and slow after that. They went back to Exploding Snap for awhile, and even practiced dueling, but both boys were depressed, and the girls did not return. Harry, try as he might, could not help worrying about the danger that might be in store for his friends this year. Ron was obviously preoccupied with Hermione.  
  
"Damn," Ron swore as his cards exploded in his hand.  
  
Harry grinned. It was the first hand he'd won all afternoon.  
  
There was a slight tapping on the compartment door, and Harry looked up quickly. It was Ginny. He smiled, but she didn't meet his eyes.  
  
"We're nearly there," she said coldly. "You'd best get ready."  
  
Harry felt disappointed, and a bit angry. He hadn't been the one to yell at Hermione, had he? Why should Ginny be mad at him?  
  
Soon enough, though, the train had slowed to a halt. Harry and Ron made their way into the hallway. Ron was ahead of Harry, and went through the compartment door first.  
  
"Ow!"  
  
Ron jumped back and Hermione gasped.  
  
"Sorry," Ron muttered. Hermione stepped out ahead of him, shooting him a glare. He was clearly not forgiven.  
  
Harry was amazed, though. It wasn't like Ron to apologize about anything, but he seemed to be getting better at it, at least where Hermione was involved.  
  
Ginny exited behind Hermione without a word, and then the boys were able to leave.  
  
Professor Flitwick was waiting on the platform. "All right, everyone, into the carriages!" he squeaked.  
  
In front of them, Hermione sighed and turned to Ginny. "I keep expecting to see Hagrid," Harry heard her admit. He was having the same problem. Now in his fifth year, Harry had always looked forward to seeing Hagrid on his first day back, towering over all the students, shouting, "All righ', Harry?" But Hagrid wasn't here.  
  
He and Ron found a carriage to themselves and settled in.  
  
"I wonder who the first years are riding with," Harry said, realizing that he had not seen another teacher other than Professor Flitwick, who had just climbed into his own carriage.  
  
"They're riding with us, aren't they?" Ron pointed out. "I reckon Hagrid's been the only one who could charm the giant squid in a century. It would be too dangerous without him."  
  
"Oh." Harry hadn't known that.  
  
The door to their carriage suddenly swung open, and Hermione and Ginny stepped inside. "All the other carriages were taken," Hermione said coldly, "and I certainly didn't fancy the idea of sitting with Malfoy. Professor Flitwick reversed the spell, you see." The girls sat down, and the carriage began to move up toward the castle.  
  
The four sat in silence for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other.  
  
"It's so sad about the first years," Ginny offered finally. "They won't get to ride across the lake, did you hear?"  
  
"Well, it wouldn't be the same without Hagrid, anyway, would it?" Hermione put in.  
  
"No, it wouldn't," Harry agreed.  
  
"This year will be odd without him," Ron said thoughtfully. "Wonder who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures, eh?"  
  
"What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione added eagerly. "Do you think they'll get Professor Lupin back? Or maybe we'll get the real Mad-Eye Moody!"  
  
"Maybe," Ginny agreed.  
  
Ron shook his head. "No, I bet they're too busy now. I reckon Dumbledore already has them off looking for Voldemort."  
  
They all suddenly lapsed into silence again, remembering that they weren't supposed to be speaking to each other.  
  
"This is stupid!" Harry exclaimed finally, as they pulled up to the castle. "Hermione, it's okay that you're a prefect. Congratulations. It was a bit of a shock, is all."  
  
Hermione nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Harry. You're forgiven."  
  
"I'm sorry, too," Ron added meekly.  
  
"Really?" Ginny questioned sternly.  
  
"Really," Ron repeated, beginning to sound a bit desperate.  
  
Hermione was trying to glare at him, but she was obviously enjoying the moment. "You're really sorry? You won't tease me about being a prefect? You promise?"  
  
"Yeah, I promise," Ron agreed, exasperated.  
  
Hermione grinned. "All right, then."  
  
The carriage stopped, and the four clambered out quickly. Harry stared up at the castle, his awe almost matching that of his first year. A nearly full summer with the Dursleys was enough to make him appreciate everything about Hogwarts, from the castle itself, even down to detentions with Filch.  
  
"This way, please!" Professor McGonagall was standing by the front entrance, directing the first years into a line. Harry could remember his first year, being led into the Great Hall by Professor McGonagall, filled with terror at the prospect of being Sorted, even after he realized he only had to put the Sorting Hat onto his head. He could sense the same fear in the straggle of first years who hastily made their way to the professor now. Some things never changed.  
  
Ron groaned. "I'm starved."  
  
"Me, too," Ginny agreed. "Let's go in."  
  
Indeed, the straggle of students that would make up Hogwarts this year had already begun to surge into the Great Hall. Finally, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny reached the doors.  
  
Harry stepped into the Great Hall, and then stopped short, spying the staff table. He could see Professor Dumbledore and the Potions master, Snape, as well as Madam Pomfrey, and several others. Professor Flitwick was conversing with a woman twice his size. She appeared nearly as old as Professor Dumbledore, and was clad in deep purple robes. Her silver hair was twisted into a bun at the top of her head, and her dark eyes twinkled merrily behind thick round spectacles. Harry knew he had seen her before.  
  
The students took their seats, and then the back doors opened, and Professor McGonagall led the first years to the front of the room, where the Sorting Hat was sitting on a small stool. The noise in the hall hushed, and then the familiar wrinkles in the hat opened into a mouth and began to sing:  
  
My brim is worn, my fabric thin, And though I'm rather dusty, You'll find my mind sharp as a pin, And anything but rusty. I am the Sorting Hat of old, That cap of myths and tales. Although you'll find my judgment bold, You'll see it never fails. Four houses have we at this school, But only one for each; One house to be your greatest tool, And help your goals be reached. In Gryffindor, you'll find the brave, Those heroes of strength and lore; Beware their love to misbehave And secrets to explore. In Hufflepuff, you'll find a place Of love and loyalty; Persistent Hufflepuffs give chase To knowledge of earth and sea. In Ravenclaw, the cleverest minds Are put to constant test For in that house, the smartest finds Are thought to be the best. Last, there is great Slytherin, Where those seeking success Will find a home among their kin And fair chance to impress. So fear me not; I will not bite; I'll only take a peek, And searching so for great insight, I'll find which house you seek.  
  
Harry applauded along with the rest when the hat was finished. As soon as the clapping had died down, Professor McGonagall stepped forward again with a scroll in her hands.  
  
"Abbot, Henry!"  
  
A small boy with blonde hair stepped forward timidly, and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head. There was a brief pause, and then the hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!" Two tables over, there was a burst of cheering.  
  
The list continued through, "Cleary, David,", "McNair, Ellen,", and several others. There were very few students to be sorted this year, and only five new Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall soon rolled up the scroll of parchment in her hands and resumed her seat at Dumbledore's right. As soon as she had settled, Professor Dumbledore stood and waved a hand for silence.  
  
"The past few months have been very hard on all of us," he began slowly. "No doubt you have all heard of the deaths of Susan Bones, and young Dana Creevey." Dumbledore sighed. "It is tragedy, indeed, when the innocent are murdered to serve the wicked. These are trying times, and I wish to encourage all of you to be prepared for the worst eventualities. I can only promise you that we will all be tested in the next few years." He straightened up, and it seemed that he was coming to the crux of his speech. "It is for this reason that I have brought a very dear friend of mine to Hogwarts this year. We were in need of a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and there is no one more capable than Arabella Figg."  
  
The woman in the purple robes stood at Dumbledore's request, and Harry gasped. "I knew it!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Knew what?" Hermione questioned.  
  
"Look, mate, if this is about her being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, it's not exactly a long shot," Ron pointed out, grinning. "How many positions are open?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No! That's Mrs. Figg! She used to be my babysitter when I was living with the Dursleys! Only. only, I thought she was a Muggle the whole time!"  
  
Ginny frowned. "Do you think Professor Dumbledore had her babysit you so she could keep an eye on you?"  
  
Harry shook his head, frowning. "It's possible, I suppose, but he would have to tell the Dursleys, then, wouldn't he? And they must not have known she was a witch, or they never would have let her near me."  
  
Professor Figg sat down after a brief round of applause, and Dumbledore continued. "You will also have noticed, I'm sure, the rather conspicuous absence of our Care of Magical Creatures teacher and Gamekeeper. I'm afraid Hagrid will be away for some while on business. As such, Care of Magical Creatures classes are temporarily cancelled. Until Hagrid returns, his class periods will be used for extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons."  
  
Harry groaned. "More time with Mrs. Figg?"  
  
Hermione, on the other hand, looked pleased. "But just think, Harry; Defense Agaisnt the Dark Arts is more useful than ever. It's probably a good thing we'll be having more classes."  
  
Harry shrugged. "I just hope she's more interesting as a wizard than she was as a babysitter. I don't fancy learning any more about her cats."  
  
Ron snickered. "I wouldn't worry about that. I doubt cats have much to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I thought you visited Egypt, Ron. Didn't you learn anything on that holiday?"  
  
"Yeah: not to let Fred and George anywhere near my food!" Ron replied seriously.  
  
"No!" Hermione groaned impatiently. "About cats, Ron. Didn't you learn anything about cats in Egypt?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "No."  
  
"Cats were worshipped by ancient Egyptian wizards and Muggles alike for their precognitive abilities," Hermione informed them. "Well, the Muggles didn't know about that - they still believe cats just have quick reflexes. But they can really see things just before they happen. That's why many wizards prefer them as pets - especially when You-Know - alright, Voldemort," she corrected herself, off Harry's look. "Well, wizards wanted cats around the house to warn them if Voldemort was going to attack, so they would have time to prepare."  
  
Suddenly, food appeared on all the tables, and they realized the banquet had begun while they'd been talking.  
  
"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, tucking into his plate.  
  
Harry, however, was not quite ready to eat. His stomach was fluttering unpleasantly again, and he turned back to Hermione. "If that's true, though, about cats," he questioned quietly, "then why were so many wizards killed by Voldemort? Wouldn't they have been able to escape in time, if they'd had warning?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Not really. Most cats are only able to see a few seconds into the future. It would be enough time to draw your wand."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Ron was staring at the both of them, his cheeks bulging with food. He swallowed quickly. "Where do you get this stuff, Hermione?"  
  
She shrugged, blushing, and stared down at her plate. "Oh, you know. just a bit of light reading. after I bought Crookshanks, I wanted to learn more about cats, so."  
  
Harry stifled a laugh. '.So she consulted a book,' he finished silently. From the look on Ron's face, it wasn't exactly a unique thought.  
  
Soon enough, Harry found himself wishing the feast were over. He was exhausted, and before he fell asleep, he still needed to visit the Owlery and see Hedwig with his own eyes.  
  
It was as if Professor Dumbledore had read Harry's thoughts, for at that moment, he stood before the students and professors and announced, "So! I take it everyone is now well fed and watered. Time for bed!"  
  
Harry joined the other Gryffindors trekking out of the Great Hall and up the staircase. When they reached the top, Harry turned to Hermione. "Could you just tell me the password now?" he asked her. "I want to go check on Hedwig." Ron leaned in as well, waiting for her answer.  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know, Harry," she said slowly.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Hermione."  
  
Hermione sighed. "I'm really sorry, Harry, but Professor Dumbledore said to go to bed. I'm not sure."  
  
"I'm just going to the Owlery," Harry pointed out. "It's not like I'm running off into the Forbidden Forest or something. I want to see Hedwig, Hermione. I haven't seen her in a week."  
  
"You can see her tomorrow," Hermione said, this time more firmly. "She'll still be there in the morning. Now, come on. We've got to catch the Gryffindors up, or they'll be wondering where we've got off to."  
  
"Hermione!" Ron ejected angrily.  
  
"What?" she shot back immediately. "You think I don't feel bad? Look, Ron, things have got to be different this year. I'm a Prefect, all right? I have a responsibility."  
  
"Fine," Harry said quickly, sensing the impending fight. He turned to Ron. "Will you wait for me by the portrait hole? I'll only be a few moments."  
  
"Of course," Ron agreed, shooting a nasty look at Hermione.  
  
Hermione stared at the both of them. "Well, thank you both. I'm glad you both appreciate my authority. This will make my year so much easier." She gave Harry a very hard look. "Harry, come back to the tower now, or it's five points from Gryffindor."  
  
"Oh, get off it, Hermione," Harry said, now a bit annoyed. "Look, Dumbledore won't care. And. if he does, you can just blame it on me."  
  
"No!" Hermione said again, more shrilly. "It's my responsibility, Harry."  
  
Harry had the sinking suspicion that she was serious. He could see Ron's mouth opening to argue further, but he held up his hand. He didn't want to start the year fighting and losing points. "Fine," he said slowly, turning to Ron. "I'll go up to the tower. I'll see Hedwig in the morning." Teeth clenched, he marched off after the Gryffindors. 


End file.
